Homo Sapiens Should be Extinct

She stared at me contorting her face with disgust and said,

“I can’t believe you feel that way. GMOs will kill you. I avoid GMO foods at all costs. They cause cancer you know.”

She then took a long drag of her cigarette, butted it out carefully (saving the rest for later), and began eating her Big Mac.



I had my interview and I didn’t explode. I also didn’t burst into flames nor did I pass out, die…did’t even forget my name. It went well and for me this doesn’t compute. So, I’m thinking perhaps It went terribly but I’m in denial or it went well because they were easy on my so I wouldn’t combust. OR maybe it was so bad that it felt good.

I made some mistakes. I didn’t do enough research on the company and then the big one, I asked about salary. They didn’t answer. I knew it was a bad question.

I was exhausted when I got home. This may have been a result of the Ativan I took. Yes, I needed something to guarantee I would not burst into flames. I think it kicked in once the stress was gone. Took a 2 hour nap and slept like a baby…..I can do that I’m unemployed, single and have no kids. Lonely but lucky.

I had grand plans for my afternoon. Chest day at the gym looking for the handsome man who smiled at me once and now has a stalker for life 😉

Instead I napped. But first I sent thank you emails to all members of the panel. I know cards are the better choice, but that wasn’t going to happen…it was email or nothing…and I think as opposed to nothing email was nice.

Now I wait and see. There is one job of the 30+ resumes I have sent out that really interests me. I’d like to meet with them. The post closes friday. I have sent a follow up email and they have received my resume and said they would contact me. I have likely made it into more than it is. I do that. An interview would be nice none the less.

The people today had really excellent energy. I went in thinking I didnt really want the job and then they were nice. Damn them.

it is always the waiting that is hard. As with all things in life.

So tired today. Eyes closing as I type.

We shall see…




Fight, flight or burst into flames

I have an interview on Wednesday and I’m gonna puke. I feel like my heart is being strangled and I’m light headed and it is only Saturday. Maybe this is the end for me.  I could die before Wednesday…and should I die before Wednesday, of a massive heart attack, at least I won’t have to do the interview.

It is a facilitator position and they want me to prepare a 15 mock facilitation and a 60 minute lesson plan. There will be 6 of them. THEY ARE EXPERTS! EXPERTS are going to watch me. Not students. Not people who don’t know anything. EXPERTS in their field.

Have I mentioned that I hate interviews? Have I mentioned that I am not really an expert at anything? Have I mentioned I have a slight anxiety disorder?


Perhaps I should stop applying for these positions. I want the kind of interview I had when I was young…an interview with one person not a panel…where they just want to see that I have basic English language communications skills and that I shower.

What is the worst that could happen?  Heart attack for sure. Spontaneous human combustion (one of my biggest fears as a child, btw)? ? Apocalypse???????

Is that the sky falling? I’m pretty sure it is.

OKAY…breathe…Im not being chased by a tiger…this is physiological response held over from the caveman days. No one in that room is going to maul me to death!  Are they? No. Maybe. No. BUT … they could look bored, or laugh at me, or stare with unblinking eyes while I sweat through my blouse. And there is the very real possibility I will literally go up in flames and my childhood nightmare will come true…it was only a matter of time…

I need a new lipstick. Nothing can hurt you when you have new lipstick….presentations are infinitely better with new lipstick…



Learning to Purl

I’m having the so overwhelmed I’m doing nothing blues today. That being said, I sent out 2 resumes and did my required 20 minutes of meditation but that is it other than eating and then eating again. I’ve showered and dressed. I have to go meet someone who is going to teach me how to purl. That’s right…I’ll still be knitting only scarves but I’ll have 2..count’em 2 stitches I can use!

When I think about the jobs I have applied for…about 30 in the last 2 months…I get anxious. Why hasn’t anyone called? What if they do call? What if I take the wrong job? What if I bomb the interview? How bad is my resume (which has undergone about 10 incarnations in the past 2 months)? Do I really need to phone people? What if the only good job is far away and I hate driving? I really want ____________job? What if I get _____________ job? What if I don’t get ______________job? What if I run out of money before I get a job? What if I NEVER get a job? What do I really want to do with my life? What if I get another job I can’t keep?

I could keep listing the chaos of my mind but I think my point has been made.

I want to crawl in bed and hide under my unwashed (so gross, but so not motivated) sheets. BUT, I am going to put on some makeup, pack my bag and go learn to purl.


My roommate swears a lot. She drops F bombs left right and centre. Don’t get me wrong, I swear too, but she swears A LOT. I’ve timed it a couple of times, just for fun. Because what is more fun than watching the clock as your roommate describes every moment of her apparently shitty day in detail. The most was 12 Fucks in 10 minutes. When she arrives home, I place imaginary bets on how long it will be until the fucks are flying. Often they start before the door closes behind her.  The swearing isnt just for emphasis either, it is angry swearing…hate the world…every one is stupid…my life sucks swearing. I have anxiety and it is not a good combination. I want to live a life of peace. For real. Im nowhere near it yet but that is my goal…to be one of those zen hippie types who just breathes through things and always has a goofy smile. Okay, I know that will never happen, but I want not to be angry. I want to be happy and be in the moment and find acceptance. It is possible that that won’t happen while I live here. Fuck!

Unemployed, single,childless middle aged woman looking for her peeps

Is there anyone else out there who is 43, single, and unemployed? Not just single, but childless and single? Not just childless and single, but never married, childless and single and unable to keep a job. It feels pretty lonely.

The thing is, on the outside I seem like I could be successful in any of those areas. I am attractive, not super model but I have turned heads. I am smart. I love children. Yet here I am alone, jobless and past childbearing age.

I feel like I dont have any people. You know? I don’t have the married couple crowed or the mom crowed or the successful professional crowd. I have friends. I am blessed with great and wonderful friends, but I dont have that place I fit in.

I have my married with young kids friends and they are too busy for me. I have intellectual decided not to have kids friends but they are too smart for me. I have single female friends who run their own businesses and chose to be alone. I have divorced friends with kids. Divorced friends with kids.  I also have gym friends who, frankly, I hope I never see outside of the gym…they come in all types…married, professional, meatheads, kids, no kids.

I have no one. None of my friends are like me. None are never married, unemployed and childless. Not one.

Are there any of me out there? Am I really alone?

When I thought I was “crazy” it was easier. Who would want crazy. But when I thought I was crazy I desperately clung to a man who was hurting me. I am not crazy. I am sensitive. I am emotional. I have had trauma that built on trauma and all that crap…

Why though, with all my potential, and I had potential…why am alone, childless and unemployed?

My last workplace said if anything ever came up I was interested in they would hire me for sure. Im friends with all my exes except tha last one because he is a douche bag and was a waste of two valuable years of my life. Like I said, I have amazing friends…but I feel like I dont fit in the world. I have not achieved any of the key success points.

Well…just wondering…are there any of me out there?

Its not the same if you have been married…are married and childless…horribly disfigured (no offense)….but are there any average people…looking, intelligence, families, friends…are there any of you who have failed as miserably as me??


PS anyone who reads my old posts, my last relationship almost killed me. He was a trigger for past trauma and mostly just an asshole




What sucks and is beautiful is that since it has a been 10 months without talking to him, I’m not crazy anymore. Single. Unemployed,( yet again) but not crazy. Also, as unemployment goes, I’m not broke so that’s cool.

went back to school and did a 3 month “professional program”. It was good…not really what I want to do…likely back to being a “helper”. Maybe it’s just who I am.

I don’t cry for nothing anymore, no more cutting. It all ended when I let him go. So, I wonder does that mean the BPD is gone? Could it be that the doctors weren’t looking past what they saw in the room? Could it be that I was with someone who was emotionally abusive? Like I said he was? Maybe instead of medication and diagnosis they should have said, “drop the douchebag and you’re golden” no one said that.

Triggers from trauma of childhood and fears from adulthood and it got me diagnosis that they couldn’t give me right now based on the criteria.

2 years of hell…and all I needed was someone to believe me about what an ass he was…is still I’m sure.


anyway…he is happily relationshipped and I’m alone with very little affection for men. It seems unfair. But, I’ve grown and know I’m not as sick as he made me.



I think I just decided to quit coffee. Im sitting here and my heart is beating and my anxiety is up….so not unusual for me….but think it is directly related to the coffee I am drinking and to be sure I do not need help with having high anxiety. So, from now on I will not make coffee at home. I will treat myself to one Starbucks decaf on Sunday mornings (im in love with the Caramel Flan Latte) and I will have to pass on the chance to win a car….I’ve been buying a large double double on the way to work every day and justifying it with the fact that there is a car waiting for me under the  rim…..

Of course by tomorrow when I am again struggling to get out of bed….I will likely turn on the the stove and silently stare into space until I hear the familiar gurggle of the espresso maker as my apartment fills with the smell of childhood mornings……

Sigh….but for today I stand firm….no more coffee after this cup 😛 

Feeling I need to write but not sure why. therapist told me to….have cancelled on her 3 weeks in a row. Feeling neutral right now. Not bad…. Not good either. Starting to have reactions to things I read and hear in the media…. See on the street. This means I’m becoming me agiain. Bitter and frustrated with a rather confusing and misguided world. Better than hopeless and discouraged by a frightening and unsafe world……..I guess.

Guess I should start feeling like I need to shower and dress or I will soon be feeling unemployed and broke in a cardboard box on the street world……


stuck at chapter 2….

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

By Portia Nelson


I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost … I am helpless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I am in the same place
but, it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in … it’s a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.


I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.


I walk down another street.


Copyright (c) 1993, by Portia Nelson from the book There’s A Hole in My Sidewalk. Reproduced with kind permission from Beyond Words Publishing, Hillsboro, Oregon.