...between the poles and the Equator, don't send a private investigator to find me please...

Pink Verdana. My favorite font. Yes, I have one of those. It's really only the beginning of what is wrong with me. Friends don't let friends have font preferences. I think Moses wanted that on the tablets but unfortunately he has chosen a 12pt Courier New and had to leave it off. 

Algorithms bother me as well. It's more than a little creepy that I should queue up Michael Penn's "No Myth" and YouTube should recommend a dozen and a half songs that I would have probably picked myself as a follow up. Granted, it probably never saw that I would randomly pick to listen to "The Crab Song" by Faith No More...but now that I have whoa YouTube is onto me big time. Drats! 

Imagine me with a twisted frowny face that can not possibly be replicated with symbols. Yeah. It's been that kind of week. I am not even sure why I let myself get excited about possibilities. They are not endless and always do seem to end. Sprouting more gray as I type, that is how fabulous I am right now. 

Sigh. 

Sitting here the last couple of days, uber-depressed, ultra-uncertain and uniquely despondent. There's not really any sort of theological or philosophical nudging that is going to the fix the broken that this is. If you missed the post the other day, then you missed that I have been reading old writings which only serve to amplify how not okay, not better, not progressing life really is. 

I should not have to go Captain Dan everyday of my life. So tired about hearing about how it has to be bad so you are grateful for the good. I was never ungrateful for the good! I think the events of the last four years are unduly cruel...unless, of course, God's plan for me is to create a woman who makes Madalyn Murray O'Hair look like a sweet, little Daisy scout. If that is the plan, then yes, all of this makes perfect sense.

I regret that I ever tried to do anything productive with my life. I genuinely regret the time I wasted going to college. College took so much time away from Jordan. I could have been a better mother to her...it was supposed to be okay. The time away was all going to be worth it. College was supposed to afford us things that I supposedly would have never been able to provide with only a high school education. I had so much hope...

It's hard, you know, having my kids spaced as they are. I can't look at the youngest and think he has a bright and limitless future ahead of him because all I can remember is how I looked at the oldest through those rose-colored shades and how despite my hard-work and best efforts...not, didn't really happen. 

I just don't even know what the hell I am supposed to do anymore. Completely give up? Let all our shit go, declare bankruptcy, go on welfare and numb myself with a state-funded addiction to painkillers and anti-anxiety medication? (For the record, the fantasy addiction is not a current addiction. We can barely afford our insurance, let alone the cost of actually using it.) 

Really getting that wanderlust again. Get the hell out of Dayton and finding some place where there is a job market that wants me...or my husband...or my kid for that matter since she can't seem to get hired anywhere either. Existence is not supposed to be this hard. I know all about the lilies or whatever who never worry and everything is taken care of blah blah blah. 

I am not even sure why I write anymore. All it does is stir up my monkey rage. People don't want to read that. heck, people don't want to read when I am brilliantly funny either because I have loads of unliked statuses that fit in that category. I was thinking about forcing myself to be more disciplined with my writing, but what's the point? I mean, I am my biggest fan...unless there are lurkers who have built shrines to me in cluttered plasticware cupboards. 

I dunno. I just can't do this. Not without heavy sedation. So that when this descent finally ends with a thud, I'll be too far gone to feel the pain of impact.

Abscence makes the blog grow longer...and the heart fonder too.

So, we are in week three of my husband's training schedule. Week three of chaos being the new normal. I thought I had post a few weeks ago that I had a blog topic rattling around my brain but I just couldn't string the words together to get sentences. That was week one, the content is richer but unfortunately, my brain is feeling a bit overwhelmed.

When he was one hundred miles away, it really wasn't any less rough. There is something though about that distance. It's manageable. Well, manageable in that we can meet halfway for dinner about midweek. Manageable in that it's a city and town I have been to and through and it just doesn't seem like a big deal.

Now, he traveled with his old job but this training rotation is such a different beast. This week marks the longest number of consecutive days that we have ever been apart...since we met. It makes me smile a bit because it reminds me of being a teenager and having similar thoughts about shorter time frames. I know that it seems really weird to a lot of people that since we met this marks the first solid week we have ever been apart.  It is what it is. Some people just hit it off I guess, and next thing you know they are hundreds of miles apart. She's listening to heavy rotation of sad sap songs and blogging about it while he does his homework and his own ironing.  Seriously, when I got off the phone with him a bit ago that was why.

I thought I really missed him the first week, even drove all the way out to see him. The first week reminded me of a few things, like how much things had changed in our marriage over the last six months. Lord, then I watched Marriage Retreat on NetFlix and that really through me for one. But ultimately by the end of the first week, I was okay. Full of gratitude and okay.

Week two, no biggie. We Skyped a couple of times. Did dinner. We all survived...intact.

Week three, started a day earlier than the other weeks and involves two time zones. His internet is sketchy, so there's been no video chatting. He calls every break he has during the day to try keep in touch with our son. Texting is sporadic. He missed a birthday. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I just want to cry. I am not sleeping well because honestly our bed sucks and without him to be my counterbalance I can't get comforable...and he's snuggly. I have got roughly 48 more hours of this and it will truly be by the grace of God that I make it because I feel quite defeated, quite lonely, and so uncertain about how in the world these next few weeks of this training schedule is going to pan out.

I started the night just listening to my Pandora quickmix but that went horrible wrong when a Cure song came on. As I type this, I have clicked my way through YouTube video to "Come Undone" by Duran Duran. I kinda wish I had heard that first, instead of "There Is No If" by The Cure.  From "There Is No If" I started clicking though the suggested videos. I could have chosen any of them, but this one is the only one that 100% fits my head and my heart without bringing on the waterworks.

Maybe by the time this is all over I will be able to cover that topic that has now been on the back burner since week one and completely nail it. Assuming I haven't fallen completely apart by then.