Because MY world revolves around food. Reading the comments on The Lunch Factor reminded me how my life gets arranged around food, and it especially reminded me of numerous episodes like the following which happened quite often when I used to live in the city, convenient distances away from my friends.
My friends used to call me at 9 or 10 or 11 at night to get me to come out. As some of you know, I’m extremely lazy, so once I’m all settled to veggie the night away with my big fat ass glued on a couch, it’s very hard to convince me to peel my ass off the couch. And the conversation would go something similar to this:
Friend: Yeah, we’re going to xxxxxx, you wanna come?
Me, pretending not to know the time: Uh… what time is it?
Friend: Ten Thirty
Me, hesitantly: Um… eh… nah… I think I’ll just stay in.
Friend, in I-knew-you’re-gonna-say-that tone: Why? We’re on our way to pick you up now.
Me, thinking “oh shit, he’s on his way already?”: Cause it’s kinda late and I feel lazy and…
Friend, incredulous: It’s only ten thirty! You go to bed at three in the morning!
Me, helplessly trying to come up with excuses: …and I gotta put make up back on… and get ready again and…
Friend, in oh-I-know-how-to-settle-this tone: There. Will. Be. Food.
Me, perking up, the ass already peeled off the couch: When are you picking me up?
Ahh… those were the days…
So I’m trying to get on with my life. I’ve been depressed and miserable. Losing Grizzley hit me hard. He’s been with me 14 years and I spent more time with him than with anybody else in my adult life if not my whole life. I loved him and he loved me probably much more than I loved him. He could not stand not to be able to touch me. His favorite place to loll about was my neck and shoulder area. His favorite pastime was to knead on my hair purring up the storm. I’m still having a hard time and I haven’t been able to go into “his” room yet. If you are one of those who are itching to say “it’s JUST a cat!”, don’t say it because I will surely hate you and wish you a very slow and painful death.
Anyway.
Getting back to blogging is one of the first things I’ve thought of as a way to get on with my life. Oh well, it’s the only thing, actually. But I’ll start with this although I find it hard to blog after a long break.
After reading the comments, mostly praises and compliments, for my last post, I feel the need to clear some misconception. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I have to say it. I know it’s highly possible that I would not have told them the truth if I thought I could get away with it. The only reason I revealed their mistake to them, not without intense and vigorous mental exercise on my part trying to come up with anything which would clear me if I should choose not to tell, was simply that I knew it’s going to come back and bite me in my fat ass sooner or later causing me much bleeding in the form of money. Judging by the subsequent headache I suffered, I think I pulled something in my head and might even have popped something there from that intense thought process, the process which my brain is not very much used to performing in daily basis.
Oh, and no need to envy. If you missed it, I’m referring to my SECOND mortgage, a type of home equity loan they gave me so that I wouldn’t have to pay PMI because my down payment was only 10%. Now that the value of my house went down by 10%, I own even less than 10% of my house and the interest rate will adjust next year. So yeah I’m in trouble, and that’s why I thought it could be the divine intervention upon learning the bank’s mistake.
What can I say. I’m just a human struggling with the weight of life. That’s all.
Life has been throwing punches at me left and right and I have been quite overwhelmed by life this year. Looking back, I’ve been whining quite a lot, and my dear little group of readers, I apologize. I don’t even feel like myself any more and I feel I’m even losing the ability to crack jokes about it as a result of every single cell in my body being occupied with dealing with life. I apologize ever more profusely because as you might have guessed, here comes another whiny entry. Please bear with me. I AM trying and trying hard to be positive and to not feel sorry for myself. But some days it gets to be a little too much.
As a matter of fact, I should have been ecstatic today. I should have been walking around with a stupid grin on my face. Because I came home last night to find the letter from INS waiting in the mailbox, with my citizenship interview appointment in December. How long have I been waiting to be a citizen? For about 20 years. For 20 years, I’ve been dutifully paying taxes without representation. Now I’m this close. But do you know what I did upon opening the letter and skimming through its contents? I cried. And my tears were most definitely not the tears of joy or happiness but of frustration. Oh shit! Not now! ANOTHER thing I have to prepare for! Why does it have to be now? I can’t even think straight. Where did I put all these documents that I need to bring there and when am I going to look for them?
It’s funny how the smallest thing could throw you off. I was exhausted yesterday, so I forgot about it pretty soon by sleeping. But I woke up with a heavy heart, found out Brandy had emptied her bladder on one of the dog beds, spewed plentiful variations of the word fuck about 478,399,643,715 times, feeling as if that letter was staring at me while I busied myself to get ready to go to work.
Just yesterday morning, I found myself happier than usual because I received the New York State STAR rebate check that I didn’t know I was getting and told people that it would cover most of Brooklyn’s hospital stay and joked that I needed another three checks like this to cover Brandy’s and my medical expenses. Come to find out today, I was lucky and saved by the check, since without it, I would have been short when making this month’s mortgage payment.
At work, when I finally opened my mouth to talk to a coworker, my tear gates opened and I couldn’t stop crying. And all I could say was, It’s just too much. Too much at the same time. I’m too overwhelmed. The coworker couldn’t say anything for a while, and when he finally replied, the only thing he could say was, I wish you were a millionaire. I stared at him and replied, Yeah… who doesn’t?
Yes, I know. I’ve been trying hard to see it as what it really is — happy and joyful events, as in I would have been short on my mortgage payment but hey look! This rebate check materialized and I’m good now! And I finally get to be a U. S. Citizen and exercise my rights as such! Yippeeeee! and so on… Yes, I’m trying very hard and will be trying hard. But I need to get this out. And again, I apologize.
Serious Stuff. Seriously
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