The Girl Who Isn't Any Fun

I can't recall how many times in my life I've heard the phrase "Why are you so serious", or "lighten up", or "you should try to have more fun", or any other phrase even remotely along those lines. There must be a thousand different ways to tell someone that they're not any fun to be around, and I think I've heard every single one of them.

Sigh.

I know I don't smile as much as I should, and I'm constantly reminded of it, by just about everyone around me. It's so tiring. I've fought that battle my entire life. Evidently I'm still losing. Oh well. Resting bitch face wins. And the "fun" part... that's something that I've heard almost as much. And it's what I've been thinking a lot more about lately.

I'm stoic, by nature. I think it's just the way I'm wired. I don't know why, it's just who I am. I've tried to be different over the years, mostly to appease other people, as I don't mind being stoic.
My ex-husbands, my previous lovers, ex-boyfriends.. they'd all say the same thing- I was too serious. They wish I'd lighten up a little, have a little more fun, joke around a little more, be a little more playful.... Jeezus, I'm sorry. I tried, I really did. Fuck off.

At work, just this week, I've heard it a few times. Why don't you have more fun, why don't you lighten up, why are you so serious...
In my defense, I am at work to make money, I am at work to make the business money. I'm not at work to give away product, to fuck around, and to act like it's my own goddamn personal playground (as many do, or have in the past). And perhaps this week I was particularly more tense than usual (due to life shit, that I probably could have left at the door, but that's easier said than done).  But I do joke around at work, and have fun, and goof off, and mess around, and act fun and funny... at least, I thought I do.. Maybe I'm not doing it enough...

I do have to consider the source, though. It comes from my grumpy customer. The one I like to throw jabs with back and forth. So perhaps it's just more of our meaningless banter, poking one another. Perhaps it's just coincidence that it falls in line with a noticeable amount of "lack of fun" in my personality.. who knows.

I don't take jokes well when I find them inappropriate.  I don't take jokes well if I find them disrespectful. I don't joke around well if I find the subject matter offensive.
And so, I say so. I make it known. I know, such a buzzkill. No fun.

Sigh.
But I tell jokes, "I clown around". I have a quick wit. Yes, I am goddamn funny. I get that from my father. And I laugh. I laugh when something is genuinely funny. Hell, I laugh when something is even just remotely funny. But there are some things that just aren't. Well, to me. But to other people, they're still funny. But to me, they're just offensive, or disrespectful, or inappropriate. 

And so, I friggin say so.
And again, you guessed it, no fun. Crista the Killjoy.

I'm not that girl on the dance floor, dancing by herself. No, not the one making an ass out of herself...

The one on the floor that everyone's watching.. because she's pretty, she's got sex appeal, she's smiling, and dancing, and laughing, she's fun... And everyone's watching. Some people are envious, jealous, even. Maybe I am, too. I watch her, and I smile. I know her, she's my friend. And I know that the man I happen to be with, whoever it may be; Joe or Dan or Bill, whatever man of the year, wishes I were more like her. And sometimes, I wish I were more like her. 

But I'm not. I'm the girl who isn't any fun.

Ugh, February vacation.
Otherwise known as- the week where you spend all your money entertaining your child instead of paying your bills. Geez.
Seriously.
And it's not like we did anything spectacular, really. Just a trip to the local arcade hall one day (that's an easy 30 bucks), the local roller skating rink another day (another easy 30 bucks, between skating, snacks, and laser tag), and the University rec center for some hoops another day.. lots of driving around in the gas guzzler...For a single mom on a fairly fixed income, it adds up quickly and takes big bite out of the budget.
And I'm still (yes, still) playing catch up from Christmas. I know, that was purely self-inflicted. No one but myself to blame for that.
Transfer money from the rent checking account to the bill checking account, try to make it up somewhere before the end of the month... Hope for some good tip days...
Sigh.

On the up-side, it was nice to have some quality time with the boy this week before he went back to his dad's yesterday. We didn't have an exciting week, but he did get to do some fun things, and we did have some mom-son time. And there was the whole- not having to set the alarm thing. For once, I wasn't waking up at 4 am every morning. I actually slept in three days this week. Odd. Although, I was making it up on the other end. I wasn't able to fall asleep at night. I saw 1 am more than once this week. Oh well.

I can't stop thinking about the tragedy that befell us this week. We lost another friend in a snowmobile accident. He was only 49. I saw it on the news earlier in the week, and I thought, dear lord, I hope it wasn't someone I know. Sure enough, my friend and former boss got in touch with me that night. And I knew right away it was about that...
Him and I weren't best friends, but we were friends. He was my friend. We had known each other for many years, and we knew each other well. We were close for a few years, and then not. Our relationship ebbed and flowed over the years, as many friendships do. We dated briefly in the midst of it all, and remained friends even afterwards (which is more than I can say for the majority of the men I've dated). I don't think most people realize that, actually. We were fairly quiet about it. Not that it was a secret or anything.. Well, I guess it's not now, lol... I had actually never spent the night on a boat before. Sad, but true- Grow up in Maine and never slept on a boat in one of our many beautiful lakes. And I can say that I have now, once in my life. And I have him to thank for that memory.
Anyway, I digress...
I can't bring myself to talk/write about the accident. I've read about it. I've read his son's accounts of it. His best friend (and my close friend)'s description of it.. It makes me sick. It makes me cry. It makes me so angry. It makes me question, as I always do when tragedy strikes, how life can be so cruel and unforgiving. I can't make sense of it. I can't rationalize it with any of the idioms that we use when death takes someone we love... "it was their time, the lord called them, the good die young, god had a plan for them, life had a plan for them"..., blah, blah, fucking blah. All I can be is angry.
And sad. Sad for him. For me. For his son, his daughters. His grandchildren. His closest friends.
As poor as I am now, I have taken Saturday off to go to his celebration of life. It is important for me to go. He was a big part of my life, too, perhaps not in these most recent years, but still, in my life. I have so many fond memories of him. Some not so fond, as he could be the biggest pain in the ass!
... Dancing with him, laughing with him, laughing AT him, begging him to stop singing (he couldn't sing to save his life), but man, he could dance! Him almost killing me in his truck (he liked to go fast, jeezus...), hugging him, smacking him, yelling at him, serving him his Bacardi or his Budweiser, arguing with him about his tab, laughing at him some more, yelling at him some more.. lol..

ADDENDUM

Yes, he pissed a lot of people off at times. Hell, he pissed me off at times. But it was because he was passionate about something. About a lot of things. And he was goddamn proud. And of all people, I fucking get that. 

And I will miss his presence in this world. I will miss seeing him. 
I will miss him so.

Anyway...
Back to the more mundane shit...

No change from the new med in the "mood stabilizing" department yet. At least, not that I can see. In fact, I think I've actually been more irritable this week. More on edge, so to speak. Not sure what that's all about. Although I'm not even up to the full dose yet, and I've only been on it for about 2 1/2 weeks. So I'm actually not even to the therapeutic range yet. Be patient, Crista. Which, if you know me, is NOT one of my redeeming qualities. In fact, one of the LAST words ever used to describe me would be "patient". So, anyway... I have, however, noticed fewer headaches, which is also something this new med is used to treat. So that is good. Unfortunately, I have one of it's side effects- pins and needles. Lots of it. Hands and arms, and legs and feet. And it's not subtle, it's absolutely driving me crazy. I am hoping that it will subside once my body grows accustomed to the medication. The new medication is also supposed to cause loss of appetite and weight loss, which I have also yet to experience. I'm still binge eating lots of junk every day. I'm hoping to get that benefit as my dose increases. Jeez. Another week and I'll be at my Doc's full dose, a couple more weeks and I'll see the new psychiatrist, and I assume he'll up the dose again from there. We shall see. Good times.
Someone once said to me- you sound like a candidate for medical marijuana. I laughed. Truthfully, I probably am. But I still don't like the stuff. Pretty strongly dislike it, actually. So, thanks anyway.

Well, that's enough nonsensical rambling for today, I guess. Gotta go get ready for work. You know, that one of two things that gives me purpose in life.

Speaking of the bar, I saw a funny thing on facebook this morning...
(and yes, I get the irony, seeing as how I paste a link to my blog on facebook, but I still had to share)...

Have a nice day.
Be well.

Parental advisory, preface, forewarning, caution, etc, etc, etc...
This may be offensive. You might take offense to my openness on private matters, my opinions on lifestyle, political position, behaviors, blah, blah, friggin blah. You might be offended by my language (yes, I'm going to fucking swear)...
Quick, hit your browser's back button if you're a sissy.

I have literally been plotting a blog all weekend.
And why wouldn't I be? It being Valentine's weekend, and I, being the misanthrope that I am... it's a perfect combination for blog fodder.
And yet, here I sit. Quite speechless. That's not to say I have nothing to write about. Quite the contrary, actually. It's just that my brain overload is causing too much clutter to properly put it all together cohesively. Not writer's block, per say, more like writer's ADHD.
Damnit.
And so, I've decided to make this blog a combination of quotes, memes, videos, and little snippets of prose. And hopefully, it all makes at least a little bit of sense in the end.
And although you may not be interested in listening to the song(s), I encourage you to, in order to follow along/understand the thought process. J

If you are, in fact, actually that interested. And if you are, in fact, that interested, then I thank you. J

And it's going to be lengthy. Sorry not sorry. But there's a bunch of crap in my head that's GOT to get out. Hey, it's cheaper than therapy.

Parts of it will also be quite personal. And some will find it offensive as well. Offensive, or just plain curious. Perhaps wondering why I would write about such personal things. My ex-husband (my lovers, friends, family, in general) always wonder(ed) why I write about such private things. I could never, and still can't answer that question.

Anyway, I digress...

This weekend I've been quite manic, unfortunately. I say "unfortunately" because mania is not nearly as fun as it sounds. I'll try to keep this a brief mention, without going into the specifics. But it's difficult to do so (writer's ADHD). It all began sometime mid-week. Thursday morning was entertaining; a whirlwind of incoherent thought, hyper-activity, excessive chatter. My fellow employees (and the couple customers) thought it quite amusing, and we all had a good chuckle. I knew it was mania, yet I laughed right along with them. Ha ha, look at Crista, she's so funny. That's the tolerable part of rapid-cycling. Then there are the intolerable parts.. The very, very frustrating inability to moderate your own emotions. The unavoidable compulsions/impulsivity (in my case this weekend, over-spending). The irritability; and I'm not talking about your normal, run of the mill irritability. The drastic and inevitable low that seems to follow everything; the shut in, the shut down, the empty.
(For those that haven't always been familiar with my life/blog, I'll catch you up very quickly... The terms that the many professionals in my life have used over the years have been- Bi polar, obsessive-compulsive, borderline personality disorder. My father's side of the family has a history of mental illness. My grandmother was very heavily medicated throughout her life. My father self-medicated with alcohol. And he poisoned himself to death with it. There, all caught up.)
I've tried various therapies over the years. Counseling, meditating, holistic crap, blah, blah, blah. Few different meds over the years. I didn't like them for one reason or another. They kill your sex drive, they make you fat, they make you emotionally flat, they make you feel (more) crazy, etc, etc, etc. I'm trying a new one right now. I just started on it two weeks ago and it takes a bit to get into your system. I'm hoping it helps. And I see a new psychiatrist in two weeks. We shall see. Anyway, it has been an emotionally trying weekend.
Week. Month. Year. Decade. Lifetime.
But I manage. I live a very normal life. I'm not crazy, as crazy as I may sound.

It was probably an emotionally trying weekend in part, because it is also (cough, choke, gag) Valentine's weekend.
And (here comes more personal/private shit) it marks the year anniversary for two separate things... A year ago on one day, my husband served me with divorce papers. And a year ago on another day, I shared a first kiss with the person I am still currently seeing.
Combine those things with Valentine's day and you have the perfect emotional trifecta. Ugh.
And yet, it is difficult to find this weekend particularly celebratory. Perhaps it's the odd combination of those events coinciding. Or perhaps it's that I had just hoped for.. more.. on this Valentine's. More of.. something..
As far as relationships go, I feel like perhaps this is how Mom used to feel. Always competing with some invisible (or, not really invisible at all) monster in her relationship. Like a third partner that got in the way of it ever being really good, or really okay or really.. well, really anything at all...
Listen. Just listen...

Speaking of relationships... My lazy Sundays are normally spent browsing facebook all day. I saw so many happy couple profile pictures.. And it agitated me with such ferocity that I had to close that browser. Have I become that much of a love-Grinch? How? Why? I was once (or twice) so in love that I made other people sick. I was once (or twice) so love-struck that I saw hearts and flowers and rainbows and unicorns and butterflies... What happened?
And then I opened that browser again. Because, like a horrific accident, you just can't stop staring. And so that begs the question. Am I actually a love-Grinch? Or am I just depressively envious?

Speaking of love...
There is one thing that Trump and I have in common, but just ONE..

Don't be a chump, don't vote Trump.
That is all. Moving on.

Thank GAWD my boy comes home from his Dad's today. If I have to spend one more moment alone with myself, I may actually go crazy (as if I weren't already, I know). With my luck, this will be the day he decides to spend an extra night at Dad's. Pffffft.
At least it's February vacation, and we'll get some extra time to hang out this week. That will be cool.
He had his semi-formal this weekend. I missed it because I was at work. Fortunately the other moms took lots of pictures. He looked so handsome. And so grown up. Even the thought of it now (him growing up) makes me sob. It's awful. (This whole inability to regulate emotions thing is a real pain in the ass. Friggin A. Get a hold of yourself, Crista. Jeezus.) Anyway...

Hopefully I won't smother him too much this week. I probably do smother him. Suffocate him.
Norman Bates's mother. Sigh.

I can't help it, though.
I feel like he's all I've got. Him, and work.
And my daughter, who is busy living her life, as she should be. One, maybe two close friends, who are busy with life, much as I am.
Only two people truly "got me". Knew me. One drank himself to death almost three years ago, and the other one is in his new life, cruising the Atlantic ocean somewhere.
Sigh.

It's an odd sensation, loneliness. And I don't speak of loneliness in the sense of not being surrounded by other people.. Perhaps lonely isn't even the right word. Maybe lost is a better word. But it's not as desperate as that, really. Not as desperate as empty, either. But it's something likened to those words.
Something... Lost, empty, searching, missing, wandering, lonely... Gah. Damnit. Writer's ADHD.

So many missed opportunities. So many stumbling blocks in this lifetime. Failed attempts. Wrong turns. Mistakes. Broken things.
So many. Broken things.

"You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time
 You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together, you'll be fine
 Tell me, what the hell do you know? What do you know?
 Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know?"

Just listen. LISTEN.

And since it would be terribly uncharacteristic of me to end on such a serious and depressing tone, I will just leave this right here....

Happy fucking Valentine's day.
Be well.