I used to work with attorneys, so it's not as though I am not used to legal business. But now that I'm finding myself dealing with them for personal reasons, it's a whole different ballgame. There are times when you just have to be glad that some lawyers are ruthless. Love 'em or hate 'em, sometimes, you need 'em and need 'em I do.
I never imagined, in my wildest dreams that I would need legal representation for the reason I do now. It's sad, it's disgusting but it's unfortunately reality. I have been bullied, I have been abused and now I am being robbed. Rolling over is not an option. Talking didn't help, so what else would be next? I will exhaust every reasonable and legal avenue possible before I give up that which is being taken from me.
Who knows? I may not have a case. They may have done such a good job of rationalizing their actions, such a good job of manipulating their situation, that I may get nothing. Then again, I may (considering the obvious duplicitous dealings of those involved, who stood to gain so much from those dealings). All I can say is, I wish I didn't have to do any of this. But my hand has been forced and so it's off to Lawyerland I go. Thank God my new job comes with a low-cost legal counsel benefit! Since I'm being screwed out of so much, I'm going to need every break I can get!
I'm fortunate to have such good friends, who love and support me and have encouraged me to fight for what is mine. I would have done it either way, but they give me the strength I need for a battle I never wanted, and never expected to have to fight.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I See You
Like a lot of people, I have trackers on my blogs to see who is coming to visit, how often, where they linked off of, where they are… all kinds of information. I know when my MySpace friends are checking my blogs, when my close friends are, when someone landed on my page through a Google search or came through my Twitter. So I know that one particular household is checking my blogs every single day, sometimes twice a day or more and I'm not sure what to say to this person. So I guess all I can say is that I have not stopped being accessible via the phone. I have spoken to you whenever you called. If there's something you want to know about me, call because it looks as though you either don't think you can or you are looking for ammunition against me. Maybe there's some other reason you come here that I can't imagine, but considering how things have been lately, those are the only two I can come up with.
So if you're waiting for me to put out some shitty blog about you, don't. I won't. If you're hoping I'll say something about being open to talking, I always have been with the exception of a couple days I requested you leave me alone (and I wouldn't have asked for that if you had been open to talking to ME at the time). If you're looking for validation for treating me so badly, you won't find it here. There is no justification for it. Whatever your agenda is, this is kind of creeping me out, so I wish you would stop this. But I know I can't stop you so, I just thought you should know all of this so you can choose to spend your time more constructively.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Letter to 2008
Dear 2008,
I had hoped that by asking nicely enough, you would be kind and oblige me with a good year, thus mending our torn relationship and sending us on the road to peace. But nooooooo. You had to have everything your way, didn't you? You've managed to hit me in virtually every sore spot imaginable, 2008. I'm at a loss as to understand how I am still standing after such an onslaught but, HA! IN YOUR FACE! I am!
Come on now, let it go. Whatever grudge you've got against me, just let it the hell go already, because I'm not going to give up. You're going to have to pray a bus hits me and kills me, because you're not taking me down. Not ever. So enough money bullshit, enough death and illness, enough loss, enough struggle, enough, enough, ENOUGH!
Truly,
Sunny
Thursday, August 28, 2008
They Say It's Wonderful
Not long after my last post, I reconnected with someone I've been attracted to for about nine years. At the time I initially found myself attracted to him, I had no idea he was someone I'd known when I was a teenager, and he'd tormented me regularly at that time (which I kind of find charming now that he's clearly not the meany I figured him to be). We didn't recognize one another as older people. I guess that's a good thing. It afforded us the shock and surprise necessary for a long overdo apology from him and a pathway to friendship.
So here we are, nine years later, 45 days into the official beginning of the romantic relationship that sprang from our most recent reconnection (I only know that because I have a snazzy counter for us on my MySpace) and I am starting to wonder... is it me or shouldn't this be the fun part?
In all fairness, the less-than-funness starts with the fact that we are on opposite coasts (he in North Carolina, I in California). Once he came out and visited, and we knew it wasn't our imagination that we were in love with each other, it just got harder for us to be apart. But where we once communicated easily, now we seem to barely be able to understand one another and struggle regularly.
I keep thinking, "Shit, this should be the time when we're happy, when everything's great, not the time for endless negotiations of whose baggage is more heavy and needs to be carried by both of us, as a couple. We shouldn't be arguing over where to be together, but just be happy that we found someone we want to be with." But it's just not that easy and the reason I wonder if it's me, is because I find myself unable to deal with the strife. I find myself wanting to hide away, cut myself off from more of it, even if it means losing someone I truly love.
See, I'm not prepared to deal with the fact that there are so many girls out there who are unable to be respectful of a relationship. I'm lacking the capacity to understand why I tell someone nothing but the truth and am still not trusted. I don't seem to be able to grasp the concept of why asking questions equates accusations. And I get the idea that maybe it's because I've been really choosy (with one glaring exception) of who I get this close to and haven't had the requisite practice. Maybe I just don't get how relationships work. Maybe they're supposed to be chock-o-block with drama, endless arguments about indiscreet flirtations from others and whose feelings are more important than the others' at any given time.
Maybe it's just that we're not right for one another. But I don't want to think that and even less believe it. I just think that alot of painful experiences have led us to this dischord. Both of us want so badly to overcome it, but we can't seem to approach it from the same direction. One wants resolution the other wants to win at all costs and at the end of the day we want to love all the stuff about each other that made us fall in the first place and be able to casually ignore the rest so that we can just have peace. It just doesn't work that way, I guess.
All I can say is that we're not bad people. We're not mean people. We want to work on it and I think that's a good thing... for now. We love each other. We want each other. I just hope that's enough to overcome all this bullshit. Hope and pray, I do.
"They say that falling in love is wonderful It's wonderful, so they say.
And with a moon up above it's wonderful It's wonderful, so they tell me.
I can't recall who said it
I know I never read it
I only know that falling in love is grand
And the thing that's known as romance
Is wonderful in every way... So they say "
So here we are, nine years later, 45 days into the official beginning of the romantic relationship that sprang from our most recent reconnection (I only know that because I have a snazzy counter for us on my MySpace) and I am starting to wonder... is it me or shouldn't this be the fun part?
In all fairness, the less-than-funness starts with the fact that we are on opposite coasts (he in North Carolina, I in California). Once he came out and visited, and we knew it wasn't our imagination that we were in love with each other, it just got harder for us to be apart. But where we once communicated easily, now we seem to barely be able to understand one another and struggle regularly.
I keep thinking, "Shit, this should be the time when we're happy, when everything's great, not the time for endless negotiations of whose baggage is more heavy and needs to be carried by both of us, as a couple. We shouldn't be arguing over where to be together, but just be happy that we found someone we want to be with." But it's just not that easy and the reason I wonder if it's me, is because I find myself unable to deal with the strife. I find myself wanting to hide away, cut myself off from more of it, even if it means losing someone I truly love.
See, I'm not prepared to deal with the fact that there are so many girls out there who are unable to be respectful of a relationship. I'm lacking the capacity to understand why I tell someone nothing but the truth and am still not trusted. I don't seem to be able to grasp the concept of why asking questions equates accusations. And I get the idea that maybe it's because I've been really choosy (with one glaring exception) of who I get this close to and haven't had the requisite practice. Maybe I just don't get how relationships work. Maybe they're supposed to be chock-o-block with drama, endless arguments about indiscreet flirtations from others and whose feelings are more important than the others' at any given time.
Maybe it's just that we're not right for one another. But I don't want to think that and even less believe it. I just think that alot of painful experiences have led us to this dischord. Both of us want so badly to overcome it, but we can't seem to approach it from the same direction. One wants resolution the other wants to win at all costs and at the end of the day we want to love all the stuff about each other that made us fall in the first place and be able to casually ignore the rest so that we can just have peace. It just doesn't work that way, I guess.
All I can say is that we're not bad people. We're not mean people. We want to work on it and I think that's a good thing... for now. We love each other. We want each other. I just hope that's enough to overcome all this bullshit. Hope and pray, I do.
"They say that falling in love is wonderful It's wonderful, so they say.
And with a moon up above it's wonderful It's wonderful, so they tell me.
I can't recall who said it
I know I never read it
I only know that falling in love is grand
And the thing that's known as romance
Is wonderful in every way... So they say "
Monday, June 2, 2008
I Will Survive?
I certainly hope I'll survive. It doesn't feel like I will. Having a lot of confidence in myself and my abilities does me no good when nobody will call me for an interview; when I apply for countless positions, for which I am ridiculously and perfectly qualified, and my phone doesn't ring. My confidence that finding work, with my level of skill and experience has proved to be... well... pointless, in the face of the current situation.
I am filled with despair. Every day. Where once I enjoyed taking responsibility for my life, I find myself wishing to intrench my head in the sand or find a more permanent escape from my inability to help myself. But I am still intellectually aware enough to remind myself that things can get better. They usually do eventually, even if for a little while. I just happen to fear that this time, I am wrong about that. It feels that way all the time, and the way things have been going (particularly with the EDD and State of California), I am right to worry.
I'm trying, friends. I just don't know how much longer I can hold on.
I am filled with despair. Every day. Where once I enjoyed taking responsibility for my life, I find myself wishing to intrench my head in the sand or find a more permanent escape from my inability to help myself. But I am still intellectually aware enough to remind myself that things can get better. They usually do eventually, even if for a little while. I just happen to fear that this time, I am wrong about that. It feels that way all the time, and the way things have been going (particularly with the EDD and State of California), I am right to worry.
I'm trying, friends. I just don't know how much longer I can hold on.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Aaaah Clint
Once upon a time, I wasn't a big fan of the Clint Eastwood westerns. Perhaps it was because I didn't really understand them when I was younger and mistakenly preferred more sensitive types in my late teens and early twenties. Whatever the case, I sure as hell didn't see what everyone else was all keyed up about when it came to these films (although admittedly, always appreciated the rich and interesting cinematography).
So not long ago, realizing how my opinions and tastes and preferences have changed over the years, I decided to put High Plains Drifter in my Netflix queue and see what all the fuss was about.
I'm not going to tell you that on some level I wasn't just a bit alarmed at how Eastwood's character "the stranger" managed to kill off three men and rape a woman inside of the first fifteen minutes of the film. And I'm not even going to get into the freakish absurdity that the woman he raped (a firecracker named Callie) alternately enjoyed being raped and tried to kill him for it. I get the subtext they were going for in a big way. I don't agree on principle, but I get it.
I love the idea of a mysterious man who doesn't have to explain himself to anyone. Who takes what he wants, does what he wishes, and shows no remorse or hesistation about either. Again, I love the idea. But if I ran across such a man in real life, I would find him repugnant, no matter how attractive. God knows, I've run across plenty of assholes close enough to know. So I think it's great that the women in the film aren't just taken by him. They hate him for it. Amazing.
There's a lot of funny shit in this movie, too. I laughed out loud. And although I used to think Clint was a bit grizzly in this era of his career, if I were going to see these films in the theater now... he would be to me, what Christian Bale and Brad Pitt are to others.
I am officially converted... time to go update my Netflix queue, fix some drinks, light some candles and have some quiet time with Clint so I can love him and hate him without all the bullshit of real life. Turns out I have a fantasy life after all.
So not long ago, realizing how my opinions and tastes and preferences have changed over the years, I decided to put High Plains Drifter in my Netflix queue and see what all the fuss was about.
I'm not going to tell you that on some level I wasn't just a bit alarmed at how Eastwood's character "the stranger" managed to kill off three men and rape a woman inside of the first fifteen minutes of the film. And I'm not even going to get into the freakish absurdity that the woman he raped (a firecracker named Callie) alternately enjoyed being raped and tried to kill him for it. I get the subtext they were going for in a big way. I don't agree on principle, but I get it.
I love the idea of a mysterious man who doesn't have to explain himself to anyone. Who takes what he wants, does what he wishes, and shows no remorse or hesistation about either. Again, I love the idea. But if I ran across such a man in real life, I would find him repugnant, no matter how attractive. God knows, I've run across plenty of assholes close enough to know. So I think it's great that the women in the film aren't just taken by him. They hate him for it. Amazing.
There's a lot of funny shit in this movie, too. I laughed out loud. And although I used to think Clint was a bit grizzly in this era of his career, if I were going to see these films in the theater now... he would be to me, what Christian Bale and Brad Pitt are to others.
I am officially converted... time to go update my Netflix queue, fix some drinks, light some candles and have some quiet time with Clint so I can love him and hate him without all the bullshit of real life. Turns out I have a fantasy life after all.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Note to the IRS
Dear IRS,
I know you and I have not been on good terms in the past. We've disagreed and hurt one another. But hopefully you and I have overcome our differences and patched up the gaping holes in our once taciturn relationship.
That said, I would like to ask you to please, please, please send my refund and stimulus check now. Your "Where's My Refund" site doesn't seem to recognize that I ever even sent my return. That worries me... a lot. I promise, I sent in my return on the 15th.
So please... can I have my money? I would super duper appreciate it.
Your pal,
Sunny
I know you and I have not been on good terms in the past. We've disagreed and hurt one another. But hopefully you and I have overcome our differences and patched up the gaping holes in our once taciturn relationship.
That said, I would like to ask you to please, please, please send my refund and stimulus check now. Your "Where's My Refund" site doesn't seem to recognize that I ever even sent my return. That worries me... a lot. I promise, I sent in my return on the 15th.
So please... can I have my money? I would super duper appreciate it.
Your pal,
Sunny
Monday, April 21, 2008
Letter to my Friends
Dear Friends,
You must surely believe, by now, that I am the hardest person to help... like... ever. You'd probably like to elevate me sometimes, without having to dip into your finances (because let's face it, it's not easy for me to pay money back and who the hell has extra money lying around anyhow), and find that words just never seem to be enough. Why? Because I've probably already hit upon the suggestion you are about to put forth during one of my now-legendary over-thinking sessions, and will only infuriate you by having a perfectly rational reason / answer as to why that idea won't or might not work.
I don't blame you at all for not even asserting an idea when you have them. I'd be furious, too. Really! I would! This is the main reason why, despite countless suggestions that I do so, I could never be a therapist.
The thing is, and I really want you all to understand this with complete and utter clarity... I do listen. I may have a response and one that suggests your idea won't work. So what? I will still listen to you. And sometimes, when we talk things out, I hear something new, hit on something different because you think just differently enough from me to have worded your thought in such a way that presents things in a whole new light. I may also not always get, right away, where you were headed because I'm scared A LOT lately and it's hard to hear over the din of terror on my head. The "whatamIgonnado?!?!?!?" that plays on an endless loop in my over-crowded brain.
But late at night, or driving to the bank or while eating a sandwich or showering (I do a lot of serious thinking in the shower - not so much while eating sandwiches, really, but you get my point ) I'll remember what you said. I'll think about what you've suggested or informed me of or an email you sent and reconsider my reaction. I do. I really, really do. Hell, I still hear suggestions LFS made to me when we were 16, about how I might look at a situation, that inform positive actions I make to this day. I listen to music I may not have liked 20 years ago to see if I do now (and often times, oddly enough, I find that maybe I didn't have the emotional or intellectual depth to have enjoyed it before but do now). I try foods I didn't like before to see if my tastes have changed. And in the same way, I will mull over your advice, your critiques, your voiced experiences and reconsider them anew all the time. I become a better, happier, more well rounded person for it, and so I always will. As long as I call you friend, your opinions and thoughts matter deeply to me.
So please, just because you don't get the instant agreement during a conversation, doesn't mean you haven't effected change. You don't expect instant approval or success on everything of importance in your life, so try to apply the same amount of patience here. I will do my very best to do the same for you because seriously, you don't have to tell me... I know I've been the SUCK about that. And to illustrate my point, rethinking things I've said to YOU, is what lead me to realize that I need to cut you all some slack.
As long as we are friends, I will never, ever, EVER give up on you. Please don't give up on me.
I'm sorry I piss you off. Thanks for sticking around and trying to help. I genuinely, truly, madly, deeply appreciate it. Every word.
Love,
Sunny
You must surely believe, by now, that I am the hardest person to help... like... ever. You'd probably like to elevate me sometimes, without having to dip into your finances (because let's face it, it's not easy for me to pay money back and who the hell has extra money lying around anyhow), and find that words just never seem to be enough. Why? Because I've probably already hit upon the suggestion you are about to put forth during one of my now-legendary over-thinking sessions, and will only infuriate you by having a perfectly rational reason / answer as to why that idea won't or might not work.
I don't blame you at all for not even asserting an idea when you have them. I'd be furious, too. Really! I would! This is the main reason why, despite countless suggestions that I do so, I could never be a therapist.
The thing is, and I really want you all to understand this with complete and utter clarity... I do listen. I may have a response and one that suggests your idea won't work. So what? I will still listen to you. And sometimes, when we talk things out, I hear something new, hit on something different because you think just differently enough from me to have worded your thought in such a way that presents things in a whole new light. I may also not always get, right away, where you were headed because I'm scared A LOT lately and it's hard to hear over the din of terror on my head. The "whatamIgonnado?!?!?!?" that plays on an endless loop in my over-crowded brain.
But late at night, or driving to the bank or while eating a sandwich or showering (I do a lot of serious thinking in the shower - not so much while eating sandwiches, really, but you get my point ) I'll remember what you said. I'll think about what you've suggested or informed me of or an email you sent and reconsider my reaction. I do. I really, really do. Hell, I still hear suggestions LFS made to me when we were 16, about how I might look at a situation, that inform positive actions I make to this day. I listen to music I may not have liked 20 years ago to see if I do now (and often times, oddly enough, I find that maybe I didn't have the emotional or intellectual depth to have enjoyed it before but do now). I try foods I didn't like before to see if my tastes have changed. And in the same way, I will mull over your advice, your critiques, your voiced experiences and reconsider them anew all the time. I become a better, happier, more well rounded person for it, and so I always will. As long as I call you friend, your opinions and thoughts matter deeply to me.
So please, just because you don't get the instant agreement during a conversation, doesn't mean you haven't effected change. You don't expect instant approval or success on everything of importance in your life, so try to apply the same amount of patience here. I will do my very best to do the same for you because seriously, you don't have to tell me... I know I've been the SUCK about that. And to illustrate my point, rethinking things I've said to YOU, is what lead me to realize that I need to cut you all some slack.
As long as we are friends, I will never, ever, EVER give up on you. Please don't give up on me.
I'm sorry I piss you off. Thanks for sticking around and trying to help. I genuinely, truly, madly, deeply appreciate it. Every word.
Love,
Sunny
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
A Little Stressed Out
Lately I've been having a little trouble staying awake. That is when I'm not having trouble getting to sleep. I've also been having a little trouble expressing myself (hence my penchant for Twittering over emails and blogs these days). The other night, while having dinner with a friend, I had so much trouble stringing a cognitive sentence together I wanted to jab my fork into my head in frustration. She thought it was funny. I guess, when one is used to being zinged with my heat-seeking, cut-through-the-bullshit conversational style, it would be a little funny to watch me stammer through the most innocuous conversation. To me, however, inability to communicate properly is far more upsetting than it would be if I say, had pneumonia. Believe me, I've had pneumonia... I prefer it to being unable to get my fucking self across.
I got the idea that maybe I was suffering symptoms of an illness. Being fat, I immediately checked the symptoms of diabetes. Oddly enough, I don't suffer any of them, with the exception of extreme irritability and let's face it... I've got good reason to be a bit cranky of late. So I looked further. I thought, "I wonder what the symptoms of stress are." And there it was, in black and white, staring me in the face... virtually everything that is wrong with me these days.
Memory problems
Indecisiveness
Inability to concentrate
Trouble thinking clearly
Poor judgment
Seeing only the negative
Anxious or racing thoughts
Constant worrying
Loss of objectivity
Fearful anticipation
Moodiness
Agitation
Restlessness
Short temper
Irritability, impatience
Inability to relax
Feeling tense and “on edge”
Feeling overwhelmed
Sense of loneliness and isolation
Depression or general unhappiness
Headaches or backaches
Muscle tension and stiffness
Diarrhea or constipation
Nausea, dizziness
Insomnia
Chest pain, rapid heartbeat
Weight gain or loss
Skin breakouts (hives, eczema)
Loss of sex drive
Frequent colds
Eating more or less
Sleeping too much or too little
Isolating yourself from others
Procrastination, neglecting responsibilities
Using alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs to relax
Nervous habits (e.g. nail biting, pacing)
Teeth grinding or jaw clenching
Overdoing activities (e.g. exercising, shopping)
Overreacting to unexpected problems
Picking fights with others
I can tell you right now, that I can still see some positive. Some. Not much. And I don't think I've had a cold recently. That's about it. Everything else... EVERYTHING ELSE applies. Too bad the only cure is not being me.
We all deal with shit, we all deal with stress to some degree. I don't think I'm special or unique because I am in this place. I just don't have a way to undo it. That's frustrating. In fact, it's stressful.
I hope you're doing far better, feeling much happier, laughing and living and enjoying life. I'll get back there eventually. But please excuse me if, for now, I don't have a whole lot of sunshine to spread.
I got the idea that maybe I was suffering symptoms of an illness. Being fat, I immediately checked the symptoms of diabetes. Oddly enough, I don't suffer any of them, with the exception of extreme irritability and let's face it... I've got good reason to be a bit cranky of late. So I looked further. I thought, "I wonder what the symptoms of stress are." And there it was, in black and white, staring me in the face... virtually everything that is wrong with me these days.
Memory problems
Indecisiveness
Inability to concentrate
Trouble thinking clearly
Poor judgment
Seeing only the negative
Anxious or racing thoughts
Constant worrying
Loss of objectivity
Fearful anticipation
Moodiness
Agitation
Restlessness
Short temper
Irritability, impatience
Inability to relax
Feeling tense and “on edge”
Feeling overwhelmed
Sense of loneliness and isolation
Depression or general unhappiness
Headaches or backaches
Muscle tension and stiffness
Diarrhea or constipation
Nausea, dizziness
Insomnia
Chest pain, rapid heartbeat
Weight gain or loss
Skin breakouts (hives, eczema)
Loss of sex drive
Frequent colds
Eating more or less
Sleeping too much or too little
Isolating yourself from others
Procrastination, neglecting responsibilities
Using alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs to relax
Nervous habits (e.g. nail biting, pacing)
Teeth grinding or jaw clenching
Overdoing activities (e.g. exercising, shopping)
Overreacting to unexpected problems
Picking fights with others
I can tell you right now, that I can still see some positive. Some. Not much. And I don't think I've had a cold recently. That's about it. Everything else... EVERYTHING ELSE applies. Too bad the only cure is not being me.
We all deal with shit, we all deal with stress to some degree. I don't think I'm special or unique because I am in this place. I just don't have a way to undo it. That's frustrating. In fact, it's stressful.
I hope you're doing far better, feeling much happier, laughing and living and enjoying life. I'll get back there eventually. But please excuse me if, for now, I don't have a whole lot of sunshine to spread.
Monday, March 24, 2008
A letter to Sunny
Dear Sunny,
I know it seems, sometimes, like there will be no end to the insane amount of struggling. You search endlessly for the key to how to undo the cycle of craziness and every time it seems you've done everything you were told to do, everything everyone said you should do, you seem only to get into a more ludicrously painful predicament. I see how hard you try and wish there was something I could tell you, some words of comfort, some wisdom to impart, but I am at a loss.
It would be easy to feed you some tired cliche' like, "This, too, shall pass" or "It'll get better, you'll see", but you already know those things. You're a smart cookie. You get that it cannot go on like this indefinitely, and probably won't. I also know it won't help to remind you that you're not alone. I know that it pisses you off when people expect a guilt trip to keep you from worrying about real shit going down in your life. Especially because it implies that you don't give a shit about anything but your own problems and anyone who knows you knows that's totally untrue of you.
I can certainly see why you're scared right now. Two years of feeling lost, career wise, is pretty scary. Just when it seems like you have it figured out, some new catastrophe sweeps in like a hurricane, and undoes all your work. And at times it must feel like you're going to lose everything. I wish you had someone "on the inside" there to help you. Someone who could give you a reassuringly tender hug or hold your hand when you feel like you're falling a bit too fast. But wishing won't make it so. So you have to stay strong. You have to keep going. I know you're tired and sometimes think it would be easier if you could just sleep through the whole mess. But that only works when someone else is doing the work and they are not. Even the agencies and institutions whose employees are paid with your taxes and monthly fees are disinterested in doing anything to help you. So you are going to have to help yourself, whether you like it or not.
You can do it, Sunny. You can turn all of this around and live your life without all this fear and worry. The key is there. It's probably right under your nose. Breathe deeply, quiet your fears and maybe you'll see it... glistening in the sunlight... ready to unlock the door to your happiness.
Stay strong! I love you!
Sunny
I know it seems, sometimes, like there will be no end to the insane amount of struggling. You search endlessly for the key to how to undo the cycle of craziness and every time it seems you've done everything you were told to do, everything everyone said you should do, you seem only to get into a more ludicrously painful predicament. I see how hard you try and wish there was something I could tell you, some words of comfort, some wisdom to impart, but I am at a loss.
It would be easy to feed you some tired cliche' like, "This, too, shall pass" or "It'll get better, you'll see", but you already know those things. You're a smart cookie. You get that it cannot go on like this indefinitely, and probably won't. I also know it won't help to remind you that you're not alone. I know that it pisses you off when people expect a guilt trip to keep you from worrying about real shit going down in your life. Especially because it implies that you don't give a shit about anything but your own problems and anyone who knows you knows that's totally untrue of you.
I can certainly see why you're scared right now. Two years of feeling lost, career wise, is pretty scary. Just when it seems like you have it figured out, some new catastrophe sweeps in like a hurricane, and undoes all your work. And at times it must feel like you're going to lose everything. I wish you had someone "on the inside" there to help you. Someone who could give you a reassuringly tender hug or hold your hand when you feel like you're falling a bit too fast. But wishing won't make it so. So you have to stay strong. You have to keep going. I know you're tired and sometimes think it would be easier if you could just sleep through the whole mess. But that only works when someone else is doing the work and they are not. Even the agencies and institutions whose employees are paid with your taxes and monthly fees are disinterested in doing anything to help you. So you are going to have to help yourself, whether you like it or not.
You can do it, Sunny. You can turn all of this around and live your life without all this fear and worry. The key is there. It's probably right under your nose. Breathe deeply, quiet your fears and maybe you'll see it... glistening in the sunlight... ready to unlock the door to your happiness.
Stay strong! I love you!
Sunny
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Letter to Girl At Trader Joes
Dear Butt floss flasher,
As CB and I were entering Trader Joes, one night last month, we not only noticed you flashing your crack at us, we literally couldn't avoid seeing it. This photo we stealthily snapped, depicts a more reasonable version of what you were flashing about. If we weren't in a hurry, I may have pulled you over to let you know how bad this really was. Then again, you didn't really seem to care. It was, after all, February, rainy, cold and one imagines you would have felt... well... a draft.
Now honey, I feel your pain. I, too, have a gigantic ass and have a difficult time finding jeans that cover the whole expanse. Also, like you, I tend to like some of my clothes to be a bit more on the snug side. I'm sure that when I have resentfully worn my low-rise jeans, I have given people an eyeful of my black granny underwear, but honestly... this was just gross. Your ass crack was visible through your see-thru thong.
Hold on a minute... some dinner just came up...
I blame your friends, crackshow. Surely one of them, by now, could have told you how bad this looks. Shame on them! Perhaps you should be shopping for better buddies, instead of parading your poopshoot at TJs.
Best of luck with the cold you surely must have caught that night from exposure, and I hope that should you decide to wear these pants again, that I am spared the sight.
Nausiated,
Sunny
As CB and I were entering Trader Joes, one night last month, we not only noticed you flashing your crack at us, we literally couldn't avoid seeing it. This photo we stealthily snapped, depicts a more reasonable version of what you were flashing about. If we weren't in a hurry, I may have pulled you over to let you know how bad this really was. Then again, you didn't really seem to care. It was, after all, February, rainy, cold and one imagines you would have felt... well... a draft.
Now honey, I feel your pain. I, too, have a gigantic ass and have a difficult time finding jeans that cover the whole expanse. Also, like you, I tend to like some of my clothes to be a bit more on the snug side. I'm sure that when I have resentfully worn my low-rise jeans, I have given people an eyeful of my black granny underwear, but honestly... this was just gross. Your ass crack was visible through your see-thru thong.
Hold on a minute... some dinner just came up...
I blame your friends, crackshow. Surely one of them, by now, could have told you how bad this looks. Shame on them! Perhaps you should be shopping for better buddies, instead of parading your poopshoot at TJs.
Best of luck with the cold you surely must have caught that night from exposure, and I hope that should you decide to wear these pants again, that I am spared the sight.
Nausiated,
Sunny
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
I Am A Pirate Now
Well, I think we all knew this day was coming. I have finally succumbed to piracy. Luckily, my marauding is safe within the confines of Disney-fied online game playing, or I think we all know that the bloodshed would be innumerable.
This is Rowena. She's my vision of me as a pirate. Yup... she's thin. Fact is, you do so much "running" in this game there's no way she wouldn't be if she were real. I could have chosen for her to be fat. I like that I had the option. But you don't really see a whole lot of them running around in game. I guess when it comes to role playing, one doesn't usually choose to be oneself in game.
She's got big tits. That was not my choice. You cannot make the chests smaller on the female pirates. Interesting, don't you think? I mean, if we're going to customize, shouldn't we be able to have a flat chested pirate lady?
Whatever... creating her was fun, and she's got a lot of boys who like helping her. That's fun. They may not be boys in real life. That's fun, too. Some of them might be 10 years old, and some of them might be 40. Also... as I've mentioned before... fun. It doesn't really matter to me.
Here's what I like... no blood. I know, I've gone soft but there it is. It's not a bloody game. I also enjoy the fact that players can't hurt one another really. I've never enjoyed PVP (player versus player) and I suspect that if it were really an option here, that I would like it a heck of a lot less.
Something that tickles my fancy... sailing. I love getting my little ships (a sloop, a light frigate and a galleon) out on the sea, shooting my canons and sinking ships. Sometimes I get sunk, and that's okay too. It's actually affordable to get your ship fixed, particularly if you're prolific about plundering.
I needed something to take my mind off of how stressful things had gotten. This has been perfect, and it keeps me from going to try to do this stuff in real life. Not plundering, mind you, but dressing up like a pirate. Because that was dangerously near to happening.
Whew... what a relief!
This is Rowena. She's my vision of me as a pirate. Yup... she's thin. Fact is, you do so much "running" in this game there's no way she wouldn't be if she were real. I could have chosen for her to be fat. I like that I had the option. But you don't really see a whole lot of them running around in game. I guess when it comes to role playing, one doesn't usually choose to be oneself in game.
She's got big tits. That was not my choice. You cannot make the chests smaller on the female pirates. Interesting, don't you think? I mean, if we're going to customize, shouldn't we be able to have a flat chested pirate lady?
Whatever... creating her was fun, and she's got a lot of boys who like helping her. That's fun. They may not be boys in real life. That's fun, too. Some of them might be 10 years old, and some of them might be 40. Also... as I've mentioned before... fun. It doesn't really matter to me.
Here's what I like... no blood. I know, I've gone soft but there it is. It's not a bloody game. I also enjoy the fact that players can't hurt one another really. I've never enjoyed PVP (player versus player) and I suspect that if it were really an option here, that I would like it a heck of a lot less.
Something that tickles my fancy... sailing. I love getting my little ships (a sloop, a light frigate and a galleon) out on the sea, shooting my canons and sinking ships. Sometimes I get sunk, and that's okay too. It's actually affordable to get your ship fixed, particularly if you're prolific about plundering.
I needed something to take my mind off of how stressful things had gotten. This has been perfect, and it keeps me from going to try to do this stuff in real life. Not plundering, mind you, but dressing up like a pirate. Because that was dangerously near to happening.
Whew... what a relief!
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
On WooWoo
Kindred Spirit
Curvaceous cooky-britches
Dangerous mind
Fellow food-a-holic
Infectious
Fun
Thanks for coming out of the woodwork, crazy lady!
A Monkey and a cat
*Thank you for listening to me with an open mind.
*Thank you for reminding me how fun and important it is to play.
*Thank you for inspiring me to be musical every day.
*Thank you for the giggle this photo gives me.
*Thank you for being my friend even when I don't make it easy for you.
My wish for you...
Joy
JOY
Rapturous joy!
It's fine!
Letter to my nemesis at the EDD
Dear Nemesis at the EDD,
I went to a nice museum on Presidents' Day (where, I assure you, I was looking for work, was not too sick to accept work, would have worked had I been offered it and did not actually work or make money of any kind amen). While I was there, I saw this lovely little figure of you looking angelic and rather benign. I am guessing this is you before you went to work at the EDD. Believe me, I know how a crap job can alter you in a profoundly ugly way. I hope that you are considering something less destructive as a possible career change.
Now, you and I know that there is some war betwixt us in which you clearly have the upper hand. I concede to that and humbly beg you to lay down your arms and allow me to go about my unemployment with quiet dignity. I do not know what I may have done to provoke your earnest vengeance but I assure you, whatever it was that I did was unintentional. Whatever brought you to this plan of attack, I do wish you would choose something less humiliating than repeatedly sending back my claim forms informing me that I filled out the ten bubbles incorrectly. I may be many things, Nemesis, but that inept, I most certainly am not. If you are going to impishly withhold my checks from me, at least be more creative. Like, you didn’t like my color of pen or hated the ugly stamp I used.
If you are someone I went to school with as a child, and slighted in some way, please know that I was going through my own seventh level of hell and probably didn't even know I was doing you an injustice. If I have injured you during the last ten years, please contact me, let's talk it out. I'm a reasonable woman, despite what you may have heard from anyone I knew in my 20s. Really! I've grown a lot since then!
So please, dearest Nemesis... let us work out our differences so that you can choose a more worthy opponent.
Please?
Pleeeeeeease?!
Your unwilling combatant,
Sunny
I went to a nice museum on Presidents' Day (where, I assure you, I was looking for work, was not too sick to accept work, would have worked had I been offered it and did not actually work or make money of any kind amen). While I was there, I saw this lovely little figure of you looking angelic and rather benign. I am guessing this is you before you went to work at the EDD. Believe me, I know how a crap job can alter you in a profoundly ugly way. I hope that you are considering something less destructive as a possible career change.
Now, you and I know that there is some war betwixt us in which you clearly have the upper hand. I concede to that and humbly beg you to lay down your arms and allow me to go about my unemployment with quiet dignity. I do not know what I may have done to provoke your earnest vengeance but I assure you, whatever it was that I did was unintentional. Whatever brought you to this plan of attack, I do wish you would choose something less humiliating than repeatedly sending back my claim forms informing me that I filled out the ten bubbles incorrectly. I may be many things, Nemesis, but that inept, I most certainly am not. If you are going to impishly withhold my checks from me, at least be more creative. Like, you didn’t like my color of pen or hated the ugly stamp I used.
If you are someone I went to school with as a child, and slighted in some way, please know that I was going through my own seventh level of hell and probably didn't even know I was doing you an injustice. If I have injured you during the last ten years, please contact me, let's talk it out. I'm a reasonable woman, despite what you may have heard from anyone I knew in my 20s. Really! I've grown a lot since then!
So please, dearest Nemesis... let us work out our differences so that you can choose a more worthy opponent.
Please?
Pleeeeeeease?!
Your unwilling combatant,
Sunny
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Garth Marenghi's Dark Place
I never used to read for entertainment. With the exception of A Wrinkle In Time and The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (and perhaps a handful of tiny Disney books), I didn't read anything as a kid, that I wasn't forced to read by at the insistence of the unimaginative public school system. It wasn't until my best friend, LFS, lent me her copy of Stephen King's Night Shift in high school, that I made it all the way through a book. Even now, I usually read either horror, suspense, or thriller and have a soft spot for such books. So it's not shocking that I would love a show that pokes loving fun of the genre I adore.
Particularly in terms of how badly many of Stephen King and Dean Koontz's novels have been mangled in production, GMDP pours salt in the proverbial wound with deliberate overacting, extremely low budget effects and ridiculously bad continuity. Dean Learner being the worst offender of them all. But the best part being the mockumentary aspect of the show and how utterly clueless the two driving forces of the show within a show really are. There is always a line in the show that makes me burst out laughing or nearly sending a spray of water across the room.
And it doesn't hurt that they had Stephen Merchant on the show. Anything with Stephen Merchant is only made better by his being in it! TALL GEEKS RULE!
Thanks Adult Swim programming geniuses. Me love you long time!!!
Particularly in terms of how badly many of Stephen King and Dean Koontz's novels have been mangled in production, GMDP pours salt in the proverbial wound with deliberate overacting, extremely low budget effects and ridiculously bad continuity. Dean Learner being the worst offender of them all. But the best part being the mockumentary aspect of the show and how utterly clueless the two driving forces of the show within a show really are. There is always a line in the show that makes me burst out laughing or nearly sending a spray of water across the room.
And it doesn't hurt that they had Stephen Merchant on the show. Anything with Stephen Merchant is only made better by his being in it! TALL GEEKS RULE!
Thanks Adult Swim programming geniuses. Me love you long time!!!
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Penmenship
When I was about four years old, my mother took me to what would become my elementary school to talk with some man in the cafeteria / assembly hall. I remember going, I remember writing some stuff, and remember my mother being freaked out about something afterwards. Apparently, that was the day we learned I was left-handed.
It turned out that the man we went to see was a psychologist of some sort, and told my mother that the way I held my pencil was an indication of a lack of creativity and that I would never be successful. That's a pretty heavy thing to lay on any mother, much less one who is deeply insecure about how her children will make her look.
So she sat me down and forced me to learn how to write as though I was right-handed, holding the pencil "properly." And over the years, I would see how badly other left-handed folk would write and somehow think that the psychologist might have had something. I worked really hard to have pretty writing. It's a shame that I almost never hand write now.
It turned out that the man we went to see was a psychologist of some sort, and told my mother that the way I held my pencil was an indication of a lack of creativity and that I would never be successful. That's a pretty heavy thing to lay on any mother, much less one who is deeply insecure about how her children will make her look.
So she sat me down and forced me to learn how to write as though I was right-handed, holding the pencil "properly." And over the years, I would see how badly other left-handed folk would write and somehow think that the psychologist might have had something. I worked really hard to have pretty writing. It's a shame that I almost never hand write now.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A letter to 2008
Dear 2008,
I know you're new and haven't really found your footing yet. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pull your $#!% together at a bit of a quicker pace. You've not only been a sore disappointment as a fresh start, you are actually rivaling the last three years in butt-suck-ed-ness. I don't know if to congratulate you on sucking so hard and deep so quickly, or beat the livin' bejesus out of you!
Please 2008, I'm tired and cranky. I don't want to be angry with you. I want to believe in you. I want you to be the best year I've had in my life, thus far, but I know that's a lot to expect. I'd be happy with a marginally nice year. Seriously, my expectations aren't that high! You can do this! You CAN!!!!!
So... very... tired,
Sunny
I know you're new and haven't really found your footing yet. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to pull your $#!% together at a bit of a quicker pace. You've not only been a sore disappointment as a fresh start, you are actually rivaling the last three years in butt-suck-ed-ness. I don't know if to congratulate you on sucking so hard and deep so quickly, or beat the livin' bejesus out of you!
Please 2008, I'm tired and cranky. I don't want to be angry with you. I want to believe in you. I want you to be the best year I've had in my life, thus far, but I know that's a lot to expect. I'd be happy with a marginally nice year. Seriously, my expectations aren't that high! You can do this! You CAN!!!!!
So... very... tired,
Sunny
Sunday, February 17, 2008
sneaker
The other night, I was sitting at my computer, talking to a friend in Japan, when I looked over and saw this. I thought, "God, there is so much in that image that speaks to how I feel."
Luckily I usually keep my camera pretty handy and snapped it before I stopped seeing it. I really like it a lot.
Luckily I usually keep my camera pretty handy and snapped it before I stopped seeing it. I really like it a lot.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
jake's message to me
jake's message to me
Dear Mommy,
I have deposited my favorite ball in your coffee mug for the expressed purpose of informing you that I am displeased with the amount of time you spend on the computer. I realize that my message would have had a more profound impact had the cup been filled with steaming hot coffee, rather than the dregs (thus robbing you of the pleasure you so callously deny me), but I do hope that you get my point.
Please see me at your earliest convenience for play time or a significant amount of emotional blackmail shall commence as a result of your egregious neglect.
Yours sincerely,
Jake
PS. In the event that the full heft of this message was not fully comprehended, there is another ball in your bed.
Originally uploaded by Sunny-bunny
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Sunnybunny V. USPS
Kurt Cobain said it best, when he said, “Just because you’re paranoid, don’t mean they’re not after you.”
I think anyone could imagine, in my last blog, that I might have seemed a little paranoid. Arguably, however, something was up. I wasn’t getting mail for a long time. It was just… bizarre! Then last Wednesday, I begrudgingly headed down to the chilly garage, where our mailboxes are located, picked up the mail and received validation at last! That, and a fistful of mail all with postmarks ranging from January 6th to January 16th.
Among that pile of post, was my unemployment check that was three weeks late, the notice of my appeal hearing at 8 AM on Monday (for the five weeks the EDD denied me because they believe they overpaid me and suspected me of falsifying my benefit claim form in order to get the money, and – of course, punish first and ask questions later… literally), letters from my union, my banks, insurance. You name it.
Thursday, I went down to my branch of the post office with every intention of having a shit-fit of epic proportions. Instead, when I got there, I found that I have lost my desire to throw said shit-fits. Instead, I had to suppress tears of frustration and resentment when asking to speak to someone who could explain why my mail was being withheld for no apparent reason. After all, it wasn’t that I was just missing my Netflix. These were important documents that I can get from no other source but the US Postal service.
Clearly sensing that I was on the edge of reason, the comically droopy eyed clerk asked me to go stand by a door where a supervisor would appear to speak with me. I walked over and stood there, pushing down weeks worth of fear and anger and anxiety in order to deal with whomever was about to materialize. When the top of the door finally opened, I felt much as Dorothy and her companions must have at the gates of Oz. So many wondrous and terrible things lay behind that tiny window within the door, and the person opening that window stood between me and the end of a long haul of misery.
Luckily, the woman who came to speak with me was pleasant and apologetic. It seems that whomever entered the forward from my previous address when I moved, had entered the correct one, then another forwarding my mail from my current address back to the old one. My mail was going around in circles. If we hadn’t gotten a new carrier on our route, nobody would have ever noticed as the mail is all sorted by machines and it isn’t usually up to the carrier to go through every piece of mail to make sure that it actually belongs to the address it’s being delivered to. He just happened to catch that he’d seen the same piece of mail pass him twice and asked. Thank GOD for Louie, my new carrier!!!
After an unexpectedly lovely conversation with this woman, she then overnighted my benefits claim form to the EDD free of charge and assured me that all would be clear in their system by Monday.
Thank goodness THAT’s over! I’ll be getting my mail, and keeping my dignity. Not a bad deal.
I think anyone could imagine, in my last blog, that I might have seemed a little paranoid. Arguably, however, something was up. I wasn’t getting mail for a long time. It was just… bizarre! Then last Wednesday, I begrudgingly headed down to the chilly garage, where our mailboxes are located, picked up the mail and received validation at last! That, and a fistful of mail all with postmarks ranging from January 6th to January 16th.
Among that pile of post, was my unemployment check that was three weeks late, the notice of my appeal hearing at 8 AM on Monday (for the five weeks the EDD denied me because they believe they overpaid me and suspected me of falsifying my benefit claim form in order to get the money, and – of course, punish first and ask questions later… literally), letters from my union, my banks, insurance. You name it.
Thursday, I went down to my branch of the post office with every intention of having a shit-fit of epic proportions. Instead, when I got there, I found that I have lost my desire to throw said shit-fits. Instead, I had to suppress tears of frustration and resentment when asking to speak to someone who could explain why my mail was being withheld for no apparent reason. After all, it wasn’t that I was just missing my Netflix. These were important documents that I can get from no other source but the US Postal service.
Clearly sensing that I was on the edge of reason, the comically droopy eyed clerk asked me to go stand by a door where a supervisor would appear to speak with me. I walked over and stood there, pushing down weeks worth of fear and anger and anxiety in order to deal with whomever was about to materialize. When the top of the door finally opened, I felt much as Dorothy and her companions must have at the gates of Oz. So many wondrous and terrible things lay behind that tiny window within the door, and the person opening that window stood between me and the end of a long haul of misery.
Luckily, the woman who came to speak with me was pleasant and apologetic. It seems that whomever entered the forward from my previous address when I moved, had entered the correct one, then another forwarding my mail from my current address back to the old one. My mail was going around in circles. If we hadn’t gotten a new carrier on our route, nobody would have ever noticed as the mail is all sorted by machines and it isn’t usually up to the carrier to go through every piece of mail to make sure that it actually belongs to the address it’s being delivered to. He just happened to catch that he’d seen the same piece of mail pass him twice and asked. Thank GOD for Louie, my new carrier!!!
After an unexpectedly lovely conversation with this woman, she then overnighted my benefits claim form to the EDD free of charge and assured me that all would be clear in their system by Monday.
Thank goodness THAT’s over! I’ll be getting my mail, and keeping my dignity. Not a bad deal.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
USPS V. Sunnybunny
I know it's not always all about me, I really do. But seriously, I think my local branch of the US Post Office is gettin' it's yayas at my expense. I moved literally FOUR blocks from my previous apartment and my mail is not coming.
Well that's not true, the bills seem to find me. Late, so I'm incurring fees, of course. But how about the checks? Not so much. My Netflix? Over a week late, when I used to enjoy a 2 day turn around.
I've made phone calls and had strongly worded conversations with no less than four branches of the USPS, and they insist they are not holding my mai. But, I should have received many magazines and movies by now.
They say that we bring these things upon ourselves. I swear if I knew what I was doing to cause this, I would stop. Unless it's watching You Are What You Eat and Dr. Who, then I guess I'm going to have to just deal. :-|
Well that's not true, the bills seem to find me. Late, so I'm incurring fees, of course. But how about the checks? Not so much. My Netflix? Over a week late, when I used to enjoy a 2 day turn around.
I've made phone calls and had strongly worded conversations with no less than four branches of the USPS, and they insist they are not holding my mai. But, I should have received many magazines and movies by now.
They say that we bring these things upon ourselves. I swear if I knew what I was doing to cause this, I would stop. Unless it's watching You Are What You Eat and Dr. Who, then I guess I'm going to have to just deal. :-|
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Where are Midwestern Boys When You Need Them?
Last night CB and I went to our usual Shabu Shabu eatery for a well-deserved post-gym, healthy grubdown. Midway through our meal, a couple of handsome young men sat down next to us at the U shaped counter, looking lost and confused. It was their first time at Shabu Shabu and had only come in because they were hungry, they thought there might be sushi, and were a little tipsy (not drunk and obnoxious, mind you... tipsy).
Because CB and I are pretty open and friendly (and so were they), we soon began chatting with these men about the differences between Michigan and LA in topics ranging from weather to people, shows we liked to watch, our relationships to the person we'd come to the restaurant with, and more. We helped them with how to eat the food, they complimented us on how cool and fun we were, and before we knew it an hour had passed. We had all laughed, nobody had gotten creepy or weird or overly flirty. Checks were handed out and paid and before we knew it we were all saying goodbye.
Once upon a time I would have been baffled as to why nothing came of that meeting. I would have been out of my mind wondering how we could find them again, what we'd done wrong for them not to ask us out. Instead, I was relaxed and comfy, though I was a little curious as to why neither of them had asked for CB's phone number (she's closer to thier age), and I thought she might have been as well. But as we were heading to coffee we agreed that it was nice to just spend some time with nice looking, fun guys, do a little flirting and not need anything to come of it (and not fall apart when it didn't). I love it when I feel a growth spurt. It feels so good!
What a fun night. Unexpected, and perfectly lovely. Wherever you Michigan transplants are, out there, thanks. It was time well spent.
Because CB and I are pretty open and friendly (and so were they), we soon began chatting with these men about the differences between Michigan and LA in topics ranging from weather to people, shows we liked to watch, our relationships to the person we'd come to the restaurant with, and more. We helped them with how to eat the food, they complimented us on how cool and fun we were, and before we knew it an hour had passed. We had all laughed, nobody had gotten creepy or weird or overly flirty. Checks were handed out and paid and before we knew it we were all saying goodbye.
Once upon a time I would have been baffled as to why nothing came of that meeting. I would have been out of my mind wondering how we could find them again, what we'd done wrong for them not to ask us out. Instead, I was relaxed and comfy, though I was a little curious as to why neither of them had asked for CB's phone number (she's closer to thier age), and I thought she might have been as well. But as we were heading to coffee we agreed that it was nice to just spend some time with nice looking, fun guys, do a little flirting and not need anything to come of it (and not fall apart when it didn't). I love it when I feel a growth spurt. It feels so good!
What a fun night. Unexpected, and perfectly lovely. Wherever you Michigan transplants are, out there, thanks. It was time well spent.
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