Not In Kansas Anymore...

Click your heels, and see if home is where you hang your hat, or somewhere else inside yourself as this simple, postmodern girl takes on L.A.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

It's been suggested for years now by every shrink I've ever had that I have some form of Seasonal Affective problem in the summer. Unfortunately, none of them really know how to treat it, since it's relatively rare compared to the more common version, seen with the waning light of the winter. I was speaking with a psychiatrist friend of mine today and as she's going to be consulting with Master P on a few issues ( like my weight, fatigue, hormones- her specialty is women's psych- and running a whole slew of blood tests) I was telling her about my weird aversion to hot weather, the sun, and sometime deepening depression when it gets hella hot like it is now. She was able to confirm the aformenttioned ideas about SAD, but other than getting a pool, there isn't much to do.

Why can't I have any EASY diseases? Or at least, access to a pool?

Needless to say, I've been moping around like it's the Day After Prom for a solid week and a half now. The heat wave really hit about then, and that's when I saw a significant dive in my mood again. Then there's the fact that Cherie decided she needed more of a housekeeper than an assistant ( it's true, actually) and now I'm out of work yet AGAIN. We remain friends, and I'm not angry at her about it. She helped as much as she could, and it did tide me over. I'm just really depressed that I can't keep a job right now, because I NEED to. It would be great if I could just sit around and eat ice-cream and sit in the air conditioning, but I have to make a living.

And so much for marrying a millionaire: just got word from Famous Writer that yes, My Beloved News Journalist is, in fact, in the closet. First Keith and now THIS? Makes me wanna give up the ghost on men altogether and get about 10 more cats. Never mind that I don't even KNOW the man ( a minor glitch, to be sure, right?). It's just emblematic ( now there's a good word you don't see much of anymore) of my Life Situation right now in That Area as well as the Poverty issue. One or the other, that's what I say. Poor, and getting laid, or having an income and not; not things I would like to have to be divisive about, certainly. But if it's going to have to BE like this in my life, couldn't I just be dealing with ONE huge emotionally strangling problem at a time, and not BOTH? I mean, come ON.

In the good news, Cherie did pass along that she thought I was a fine employee, and there was nothing wrong with me. Even more heartening, Dee called me this week and wanted to know if I'd help her do some personal filing and bookeeping. I had a conversation with her about my work habits, and she said she also thought I was a fine employee, a very hard worker, and a meticulous assistant, "otherwise, I wouldn't have asked you to do this for me. I trust you. " And since Cherie is a decent person, and while Dee is a little delusional about stuff, she's a decent person too, so I know it isn't really like they're crazy or terrible bosses. That's reassuring, because Cherie is a good contact to have in this business, and so is Dee. Between them both, they know just about where all the bodies are buried ( figuratively) in this town....

On the flip side, again, though, I have to shake my fist to the heavens and ask- in light of these revalations- "WHAT AM I DOING WRONG?!?!?!?" Is my life so askew that I am doomed to be living on spaghetti and salad untill I get it right? What am I supposed to be getting right? Is it karma? If so, do none of my good deeds in this life count for ANYTHING other than sopping up the overflow from what must have been a true bloodbath of a former life? I mean really, now, what the FUCK is up with the Universe that I cannot get a job in this town and keep it longer than a month or two?

Seriously, I want to know. If it's supposed to be getting me ready for some great reward ( whoa- 80's flashback- Depeche Mode) later, then I suggest we hurry up the timeline on this little drama. As Dennis Miller used to say ( another 80's flashback- what was in that salad dressing? Sheez!): "I gotta life to live, cha cha!"