Here we go again

I was told the other day that my morals do not match the household where I am staying.

Before I moved in here I was told that I could live rent free, not worry about buying food, just relax, take care of myself and save money so I can move back west. At that time, I told this person that I wouldn't be his maid. He said that that was fine as long as I vacuumed once in awhile.

My morals come into play when I did as I said I would and he expected something different. When told to fill the dishwasher, I replied that I had done the last load (which I had). A few hours later he snapped at me, "The next time I tell you to do the dishes, you better do the fucking dishes!" I told him that he needed to watch his tone. He told me that then I better go outside, I refused and demanded to know what the problem was; I was doing anything different than anyone else in the house. As far as I could see we were taking turns doing the dishes. And he kept throwing up the point that I was living rent free, finally I said that he couldn't use that against me because that was his idea and I told him I wasn't going to be his maid up front. He and his partner work full time jobs blah blah blah I should be cleaning the house blah blah blah.

I told him that if I could get up and clean the house then I could get up and go to work. I told him that he must not think I'm really disabled, he didn't say anything but I know that's what he was thinking.

The other thing I made him promise was that he would talk to me honestly - if something was bothering him, he had to talk to me about it. He didn't and suddenly I'm the bad guy.

What it comes down to is that he isn't true to his word - he promised he wouldn't smoke in the house (he does) he promised to teach me to drive (he hasn't) he promised to buy me a car (he won't). His word means nothing and that hurts me. I now have to process him into a different category ("Friends to be Taken with a Grain of Salt.") I had high hopes for him.

He wanted to rescue me but not keep me.

As I write this I'm in my best friend's house, I have a room here now. I feel as though I'm dangling on a thread; if I'm asked to leave this household, I'll have nowhere to go. I don't see it happening, but I didn't see being asked to leave the other place either.

Urg

I was born sometime between 11 and 11:30 am E.D.T. which means in less than a day I will be 45.

My mother died at 46 years, 9 months, and 15 days. Her father died when she was 15. I feel like someone on death row. (The part of the prison system, not the record label.) I know there's no reason to feel this way but I do. My grandmother lived into her 90's, her mother lived until she was 104. I don't know which is worse; dying young or outliving your worth.

So, 45. I still feel like I'm in my twenties most days. If asked quickly, "How old are you?" I'm likely to answer "26!" before realizing I'm not. I'm more playful now then I was in my 20's, more willing to party, more open to other ideas, willing to let others have their beliefs no matter how I feel about it as long as they're happy.

I'll feel better tomorrow but today I'm feeling low and lonely. I miss my west coast friends, I want to go to The Stinking Rose and have a few dollars to go bead shopping at Baubles and Beads or General Bead or both. I want to get hugs and kisses from my west coast friends, I want to go to a comedy show and feel like a fucking princess.

I'll still want these things tomorrow, but I won't be so beat up about it.

Pre-birthday Blues

It happens every year; as each day moves me closer to The Day I get more depressed and feel like a waste. This year especially because I'm living with friends - on the east coast - with no home to return to out west - broke and in debt - this is the lowest point - and I'm turning forty-fucking-five.

I'm the college kid that moves back with mom and dad when the real world "doesn't work out." I didn't have a failure to launch; I launched and flew in pointless loop-de-loops then crashed back onto the launching pad. I'm shrapnel and debris - I'm the forensic evidence that experts paw through before dumping on the scrap heap.

I'll be better come Tuesday.