Where there's smoke...

After the depressing week we had last week, I was hoping for a calmer, less drama- and stress-filled weekend.  It kind of didn't work that way.  At all.

I ended up sleeping in pretty late on Saturday morning.  Which meant I managed to stay up pretty late on Saturday night.  Around midnight, I was feeling tired enough to go to bed, so I let the dogs out one last time.  While doing so, I noticed some small flames flickering in the window of a house under construction a block away.  I did a quick double-take, to make sure I wasn't imagining things, then told the Mister, "I think that house is on fire!"  He quickly came to the door and saw the same thing I did, so I called 911.  Their first question when answering is "What is the address of your emergency?"  So naturally I said, "I have no idea!  It's a house on Yellowstone, north of Durston."  I explained what we were seeing and the dispatcher told me they'd notified the fire department.
The 911 Communications center is located about 3/4 of a mile from our house, so it really didn't take long for them to get to the house.  Unfortunately, since the house was only framed up, with nothing but wood structure going on, the fire spread very quickly.  The Mister, being the Mister, grabbed his camera and ran out to get pictures.  I, on the other hand, grabbed my Flip and started to record what was happening from the safety of our back porch.



I edited the video to show the sparks being carried by the wind to the empty, weed-covered block just north of our house.
It was pretty unreal, what happened.  Yes, there have been some suspected-arson fires in the area in the past month or so, but I never imagined I'd be a witness to one.

Here are some of the pictures that the Mister took of the house on fire:

The occupied house right next to the house on fire was, thankfully, spared from catching on fire thanks to the firefighters.  A window was blown out and the newly-finished fence caught on fire, but other than that, I believe everyone in the house got out safely and the house itself wasn't damaged.

I've never in my life called 911 before.  It's not something I ever thought I'd have to do--I'd prefer to avoid all possible emergencies that could necessitate calling for help.  I think I was one of the first people who called in about the fire, so we got questioned a little about what we saw--if we saw anyone near the house when the fire started--but neither of us were any help in that regard.

I contacted a local news station to see if they were interested in the photos at all, and they were.  They also wanted to interview us about the recent fires--this property fire was only one of 4 that happened over the weekend.  So the Mister got to be on tv.

The news story on local newscast


That was certainly exciting all by itself.  But wait!  There's more!!  (oh, how I wish there wasn't)

Naturally, a lot of people in the neighborhood were woken by the chaos of the fire--the fire truck honked a few times as it came this way, the house itself made clanging and crashing noises as it burned--and so, since we live in the age of handy technology, other folks were taking pictures and videos of the fire as it happened.

The local fire department put some of the photos the Mister took on their website, along with someone else's.  (I'm not naming the someone else for obvious reasons)
Apparently the someone else, for unknown reasons, thought that the Mister had somehow managed to steal his photos and was taking credit for them.  So it was, this morning, that the Mister told me this guy was sending him harassing messages on Facebook, accusing the Mister of somehow taking his photos without his permission so he could take credit for them.
The Mister, being....well...the Mister, didn't really say "Hey, calm down, I don't know what you're talking about" but instead "Those are pictures I took with my camera, dumbass*".
(*all quoted material is paraphrased--not actual conversation)

And so it began.
The guy actually called our house to ask for the Mister, who was at work, and didn't want to leave a message.  I was still in the dark about what was transpiring at this point.  So I called the Mister to tell him he'd just gotten a call from someone asking for him at home (very peculiar) and he told me this guy on FB was harassing him.  And had now sent him a message saying, "Your wife sounds cute, I think I'll stop by and say Hi while you're out of town."
This was later followed with, "I'm going to go over to your house so your wife can give me a blowjob" as well as "Your wife is fat, and you're a loser" which eventually ended with "It was nice getting to know you, and your unattractive wife".  The ending was accomplished by the Mister blocking the guy on Facebook.
He also called the Mister's employer to complain about the Mister harassing him.

Needless to say, I got to call the cops again, thankfully on the non-emergency line.  I spoke with an officer about what was going on and she reassured me that what the guy was doing was NOT ok, she'd warn him and if he didn't heed her warning, we could press charges.  I just wanted him to leave us alone.

The scariest part of it--he actually complimented one of the pictures we had posted--after he'd harassed us!

I really, really hope crazy things can stop happening now.  I think my allowance of crazy things was filled a couple months ago.

Misery

I'm not usually someone who will write down all of the bad things, the negative things, the hard things that are going on.  I don't like to be depressed, I feel like I'm generally a rather optimistic person, even if things tend to drag me down every now and then.
I'm sure someday I'll look back at this time in my life and think that it only made me smarter/stronger/a better person.  But right now, it fucking sucks.
Right now, I want to just get it all out and over and done with, so I can hopefully move on.

I messed up this year.  Badly messed up.

The Mister was fired from his job the day after Christmas.  As of January 1, 2012 we were in a whole different stage of life.  Unemployed, uninsured, unmotivated.
Because of how well the Mister was paid, because of how unbelievably terrible my previous job was, I'd quit in June of last year.  At the time, we transferred to the Mister's company health insurance.  As of 1/1/12, we no longer had coverage.
Because of the fact that he'd always make more money than I would, in the business he's in, we decided I should wait to look for a job and see if he could get a job here so we wouldn't have to move to look for work.  It took a couple months, but he started at a new place on April 1.
In March, a friend told me about a possible job that was opening in local government, in her office, that I'd be perfectly qualified for--it was in my field, I had just the right amount of experience.  The only hitch--it wasn't going to be available for a few more months.
Since the Mister now had a job, and we had savings, I thought it'd be ok to wait for the new job.  I thought that it would be pretty stupid to go look for a job to last me a couple months, just enough time to get me trained, and then leave it to go for this other job.  I was sure I'd get the professional job--it was where I'd interned when I was in school, I was familiar with the office, it was a perfect job for me!
I contacted the person in the office in charge of the job and found out that they couldn't make the job announcement until the new budget went into effect--July 1.
In the meantime, the Mister's job wasn't as lucrative as his previous one.  Comparably, there was less stress at the new job, but more stress about money.  His wage was 60% less than he'd been making a year earlier.
July 1 came and went.  I waited patiently, and then impatiently, for the job to be posted.  Our savings was almost gone.  Yes, I know, hindsight is kicking my ass right now.
I found out the job wouldn't be posted until August or later, so I joined a temp agency.  I figured at least that way I'd still be available easily for the new job.
So, in August, I contacted a credit counseling organization.  We were going to be late on our mortgage payment for the first time.  I provided all the requested paperwork and we were told to wait to hear back.  Yes, the organization is non-profit, and trustworthy.
The job finally got posted, and while I had reservations about getting my hopes up by applying, I finally submitted my application in mid-August.  It was at this point that the ship started sinking...

The CC service didn't hear back from the mortgage company.  Apparently the package they'd submitted didn't go to the right department or something.  Earlier this month I was contacted by the mortgage company regarding the late payment.  I told them that we were working with a CC company to do a loan modification.  The mortgage company hadn't received any application for a modification on our account.  I called the CC company, told them what I'd been told, and the agent I'm working with told me that she'd re-send the package.  It wasn't officially received by the mortgage company until 9/11, a full 5 weeks after I originally gave the CC agent all the paperwork she'd requested.
Things in my friend A's life had been rocky earlier this month, problems with the kids, real-life stuff.  I feel like a wedge has been building between us and I don't know how to deal with the change in our friendship.
A week ago, my local close friend B called me to talk about her hard times.  She's a friend I've managed to keep since college--5 years ago--and we have a truly great friendship; we're both introverts, we both don't want/have kids, etc.  Just a lot in common.  Well, things have gotten shitty for her, so she's moving away.  The one person I know I can always rely on for a hug is leaving.  Ugh.
Then the eye thing happened.  That whole drama still isn't over.  In fact, it got worse this week.  While on lunch at my recent temp job on campus, I noticed a similar-looking spot in my vision--this time in my left eye.  The spots in my right eye had slightly diminished, though they're still there if I look for them.  The new spot in my left eye was very obvious.  Per doctor's orders, I called the eye doctor in town right away and they squeezed me in an hour after I called.  In the time between realizing I had a new problem and when I got to their office, I had a very mild panic attack.  I could breathe, but my chest felt tight and I couldn't focus on a damn thing.  So thankful that they only needed me for answering phones and directing (very few) walk-ins.
The doc ran a test, dilated my eyes, ran more tests and finally told me:  I see nothing wrong. The blood spots and swollen nerve in your right eye are no longer an issue and there's nothing I can see wrong with your left eye.  He once again suggested I see a neuro ophthalmologist.  I would, if I had insurance, or at least money to pay for it, but that's not happening right now.  I know that even if I did have the money, I'd still have to have someone there to drive me from whatever random rituals of torture the specialist would want to do to me--my eyes would likely be too fucked up to drive myself anywhere.
Because of my high blood pressure at the time, the doctor ordered me to go off my birth control pills, start taking a daily aspirin, and see my primary doc about something for my blood pressure.  I've stopped taking my 3-month cycle pills, started an aspirin if I don't already have a headache (stress likes to sit right in my shoulders), and the primary put me on a very light prescriptions for my blood pressure.

Now, as of today....
I'm a very, very unhappy basket case every month (instead of every 3)
I feel like I'm losing my closest friend (physically) and my closest friend (emotionally)
Financially, things are heading to the "extreme duress" category
And I officially got notice today that I'm not even going to be interviewed for the Dream Job.  I waited for nothing, for no reason.

Hindsight--yes, I should've gotten a job as soon as the Mister lost his.  And after he did get a job, I should've gotten a job then, rather than wait on the Dream Job.
I fucked up.  I fucked up really bad.

If I were a drinker, I'd be drunk right now.  If I were an emotional eater, I'd be binging.  Instead, I'm rather nauseated.  And I just want to go to bed.

Educational Living

As far back as I can remember, I loved school.  I don't know if it reflects back on me trying to be the opposite of my siblings so I can make Mom's life easier, or if I just took to school like an otter to water.  From an early age I was told by family that I was going to go to college.  It was just a given.
My brother rewarded me if I did well in a semester, especially if I made the honor roll.  I made the honor roll a lot.
Learning was fun to me.  Yes, there were subjects I didn't excel in, but for the most part I enjoyed school.  I didn't mean to be a teacher's pet, but I tended to be responsible and I liked most of my teachers, so I tended to thank them at the end of the year.  I was kind of a short adult.
Junior high was hard.  Not the classes--the classmates.  I was picked on and made fun of.  Kids can be such assholes.
In junior high, I discovered Home Economics and Art and Earth Science (though I was sure at the time that I didn't want a job in science).  I got to learn how to bake in Home Ec.  Something is greatly enjoy still.
Art was taught by my uncle, who wouldn't let anyone bully me in class.
And I got to TA Earth Science in 8th grade.  My teacher was a former classmate of my Mother's.  He was a goofy guy, and I really got a chance to start having fun in science.
By the time I'd reached high school, I was basically a goody goody.  I liked learning for the most part, possibly because I learned things easily or, if things were more difficult to grasp, I had good teachers.
At 18, I was ready to give college a try.  I got good grades in HS, mostly A's, and was pretty sure I'd be able to manage higher education.  Boy, was I wrong.

Everything in college was hard.  High school hadn't prepared me for the study habits necessary in college.  Unless I had a project to work on, I almost never had homework in HS.  In fact, I often studied for 5-10 minutes, total, before a big test, and still managed to pass easily.
In my first few college classes, I was supposed to read 50 or 60 pages of textbook before a lecture.  What had been almost too easy in the past was now scarily hard.  It didn't help that I was pining for the Mister at the time, either.
When I completed my freshman year of school in May of 2000, I ended up taking a year and a half off from school.  The Mister and I were first in Canada, then back in the states with me being the sole provider because he couldn't work due to immigration timing.
Finally we were able to move back to my college town and I finally re-enrolled in January 2002.  Slowly but surely, I developed study skills, and some people skills (to glean study skills from) enough to get my feet under me.  I declared my major and things took off for me.
Once I declared, I really started to feel good about school again.  It became, once again, something I enjoyed.  I'm sure there were plenty of times when I got frustrated, overwhelmed, and wanted to throw in the towel.  But I stuck it out and by the time I reached the upper-level classes of my major, I loved school.  I was able to learn things that really interested me, speak with others who had it in common with me, and even connect with a few of my professors.
I know my academic advisor was disappointed I didn't go into grad school--she knew how passionate I was about physical geography and really thought I'd be a great teacher.  By the time I graduated, I couldn't imagine sticking around longer and becoming masochistic enough to do grad school.

Which brings me to now....
Now, I've been out of school for 5 years.
Now, I still don't have a job in my field.
Now, I'm working mostly office jobs that don't seem to be satisfying my need to use my brain.
Now, I'm temping in an office on campus and the nostalgia of being back here is making me sigh with longing.
Now, I'm considering going back to school.  For another degree, not graduate school.
Now, I'm questioning my sanity.

I'm not saying that office work isn't difficult sometimes, but I still sometimes get very frustrated that I have a valuable education that I don't get to utilize in the office setting.  Such is the life for a lot of people in this town, I think.  We get the education, graduate, but want to stay because the town itself is so nice.
No matter what path I choose for myself, I know that I'm still young enough to find a career that I can spend a lot of years working in.  I just want to find one that doesn't make me think I wasted a lot of money and time on a useful, but under-utilized, degree.

Friendship

I have long held a selfish desire for a lifelong friend.  My mom has lifelong friends--she's regularly in touch with people she's known since before I was born.  Friends she can always rely on for a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, or someone to share a laugh with.
Likewise, in numerous movies, I've been shown how some people are able to be close across the country and through the years.  And so I've wanted it.

Unfortunately for me, there's been no lifelong friend.  I've had friendships here are there, but something always seems to pry the relationship apart.
Yes, I've got the Mister.  But sometimes I really want a non-related friend's perspective to remind me of sanity.

In high school, I was an unpopular kid.  I didn't drink, didn't smoke, didn't do drugs, didn't sleep around.  I liked to stay home and read on the weekends.
I had a friend, a couple years older than me, who lost interest in me when she met her now-husband.  He partied, she liked him, so she partied.  It's high school, I can understand the immaturity of that relationship.
I had another friendship off and on in high school who put me down a lot.  I'd mention a decision, she'd claim she'd never do that.  She made fun of me with other people in her clique.  Whatever.
College came along and I didn't really form any friendships at school until I was almost done.  The one person I did start hanging out with outside of school was a couple years older than me with a husband and two kids.  She tended to get drunk quite a bit--even peed in the middle of my street one night.  Once again, I'm not a big partier....she stopped returning my calls.
A couple years later, Jo bumped into the Mister and then ended up calling me.  We reconnected and started spending time together again.  I tutored her oldest daughter on flute, even letting her use my own instrument.  I loved her family, her 3 kids and menagerie of animals.  I even thought her husband was cool.  I thought we were close.  I thought we had a good, strong friendship.
...and then Gunner died.  The Mister and I decided to put Gunner to sleep.  Two days before our housewarming party.  Not the best timing ever.  The following day, while moping and weeping, my friend called to tell me she wouldn't be coming to the party because her other friend, out of town, was having a meltdown and needed her.  I didn't answer the phone, I wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet, so the message went to voicemail.  I was cleaning the house, getting it ready for the party, and forgot to call her back or text her.  So she assumed I was mad at her.  She called me again the night of the party and left a message about how she was "sorry, but I have a friend in need, I'm so sorry I missed your party."  Yes, she got snippy at me because I hadn't returned her phone call, and she'd assumed I was mad and not understanding of the situation.
Glad to know that she knew me so well.
In any case, I called her back, but my calls went unanswered as well, so I tried to calmly explain via voicemail that I wasn't mad at her, I'd been upset and hadn't wanted to talk or put on a happy face.
I haven't spoken to her in 2 1/2 years now.  Her daughter and I still talk every now and then--she's still playing my flute and loving it.  -sigh

So now here I am.  I've finally managed to figure myself out, and learn to accept myself.  I call myself an introvert, not as an excuse, but because I can no longer think that there's something wrong with me--I'm just different than a majority of people.

And I've somehow stumbled upon someone who continues to put up with me--from a few states away.  I met Alex online a few years ago on a favorite author's fan site messageboard.  She's a few years older than me, married with a couple of stepdaughters.  She lives in the southwest.  A complete opposite from me in a few things, most especially her faith.
She's somewhat of an introvert, though, so we can at least relate to each other that way.  Our separate senses of humor seem to be from the same source somehow, too.
I can honestly say I've never known a better friend.  This is the comrade my emotional self has been hoping for for years.  She's pushed me to do things I'd regret not doing.  She's allowed me to be there for her, be her shoulder to cry on, and it's wonderful.  Because not only do I greedily want someone I can have a close friendship with, I want someone to be able to rely on me.  It's hard when things get rough for either of us and all I want to do is give her a hug.  The problem with me is, while introverted, if I connect with someone, I want to hug them.  I'm a hugger.  It's a sickness.  My name is Mel and I'm a hugger.
Anyway.  Alex has been there for me through good times, stressful times, scary times, joyful times and heartbreaking times.  I've tried to be there for her during all those times in her life as well.
Sadly, we've only been able to meet up a couple of times.  Her husband doesn't like me--I'm a bad influence.  Me!  He's an uptight jerk.  But anyway...I hope she continues to call me her friend as time passes.  Because a dark time in her life is becoming lighter and I'm afraid she'll outgrow me when she's completely happy once again.  I want her to be happy, don't get me wrong.  Even if it is with a twit that doesn't deserve her.  But I know that happiness can mean she needs me less.
Yes, I know, I'm insecure and pathetic.  Probably from all my fabulous experiences with "friends" over the years.

I'm so thankful for the internet.  First the Mister, then a twisted sister.  As long as I don't find a baby online, I'm satisfied.  Because, really, that would be awfully freaky.  Babies can't type.