Entombed.

My life as it is, is basically a tomb of silence and suffocation. I feel isolated from real life in real time. I don’t have a husband and children, as a woman of my age should have. I cannot find work, and I have no real means to support myself. So right now, all I want is a job.

I hope that I make good money, because all I like to do is spend money. That makes me happy. Maybe that is wrong because its so capitalist, but that’s the way that I am. It makes up for the fact that I don’t have any friends nor a boyfriend.

I don’t know what is going to happen to me in the future. I am miserable and desperate right now and I can only hope that the future holds something better for me.

My sisters all have degrees and they hold good jobs. As for me, I don’t have shit.

Misery.

Well, here I am, sitting in my sister’s house, with mother and Bad Panda. Panda is a dog, by the way, a very pretty dog.

As for me, I am suffering from anxiety, which is threatening to drive me insane. I went to the stupid psychiatrist, to get some help for the anxiety and the paranoia. All the bitch was worried about was all the medication I was on. I am like, “Don’t worry about it, bitch. It works, which is a lot more I can say about our working relationship, which is in shambles, thanks to your mistrust.
The new psychiatrist is Russian, from the motherland, replacing Dr. Roy, who was a East Indian and a complete, utter asshole. I don’t think I can do shit with the Russian psychiatrist, so I am trying to go back to my original psychiatrist, who is on the East Side of Manhattan. I don’t have any real love for him, either, but if the Russian psychiatrist is going to be stingy with the meds, I am just going to have to get rid of her.
So I am suffering from anxiety, and it is making my life harder than what it has to be.
Accounting is making me miserable, and I feel stupid and I feel shitty every time I deal with anything that has to do with Accounting. We have a test next week thursday, and I don’t think that I will do so well. I feel brain-damaged, like a complete moron, its terrible.
I am tired of baby-sitting Bad Panda. I love her, but its enough. I would rather be at home trying to decipher Accounting. Whenever I go to walk Panda, and feed her, I feel like I am be used by my sister and my mother. I believe that my mother just doesn’t give a fuck for me or anything that I do. She is more interested in brown-nosing the members of the family that don’t need her. So she does anything that she can to get back into their good graces after raising them in the worst way possible, and then beating them often because they looked like my father, whom mother despised at the time.
If I say these things to mother, she will just deny it. See, ever since my father died, she became the great revisionist. Many things suddenly became her fault, and my father became this nice guy who knew her very well. All of it is bullshit. But as revisionists go, you can’t argue with them because their view cannot be challenged. So even though she raised us shitty, and she beat my brother and sister more because they looked like my father, all of a sudden that shit didn’t happen. I get tired of pretending. Sometimes I play into that shit and I pretend along with her. Life seems nice like that. But its not the truth, though. As I struggle along with my life, I can hardly afford to forget the truth. You see, for me, mother hates me because of my illness. At first, she thought it was her and my father’s fault. However, that changed into “Its her fault. Its her own damn fault and it has nothing to do with me.” So I get denigrated and used. There is no love in it. Sometimes I just want to slit her throat because I suffer so much and there is nothing for it.
I wasn’t able to see my psychologist on tuesday because she had an important meeting that could not be canceled. I need my psychologist. Like one of my Professors said, she saw a psychologist because without it, life would not make much sense. Its the same for me. My Psychologist humanizes me, in that she makes me seem like I am a real person with a real life. You know, what are you going to do, what are you going to say, do you care about this thing at all? Its about me, not my sisters, not my brother, not mother, just me.

Madelyne, Semi-Mature Woman

Well, right now, I am in Berkeley College, my new school. Don’t mix it up with the University of California – Berkeley. Its not the same school, and that would be taking the bitterness out of my mouth. No, kids, Berkeley is this unknown free-standing school, that teaches skills to students on a work-related basis. It’s also cheezy and cheap, not unlike that other famous free-standing school, Metropolitan College.

I hate the free standing school, they will nag you about admissions to their school until you develop a hole in your skull. And when you have the hole, they will run and stick admissions papers in it.

So, how did I run into Berkeley College, you might ask?

Well,  I got fearful of  life, and lazy (not a good combination for me) and I just went ahead and did it. Even though Bronx Community College, CUNY, would be WAY cheaper and I would still get the ABA  paralegal degree, dear children, I just went ahead and registered with Berkeley anyway.

And that’s the end of that, for now, until I fail my first Accounting test.

Now I have to leave the Berkeley Library soon, and I will return home to nothing. Let me tell you something, all I want to do is just spend money. That’s me, and I know it sounds horrible, that I should wanting something much more higher minded and highly developed, but I wasn’t raised that way. All I want to do is spend money and I don’t give a fuck where it came from, as long as I don’t have to pay it back! And even if I have to pay it back I will still spend it.

To the dismay of SallieMae & friends. 

See, I have to buy books for two classes that is long over due, and I will still need to buy a book for a third. But I don’t wanna spend money on books. I rather go to Greenwich Village and buy sunglasses and weird bling and all kinds  of crazy shit.

Utter frivolity, people!

But no, my life has to be hard and I have to buy books, and go home and study, even though I went to Hunter College, CUNY. I thought all the study shit was over. But no, the economy had to crash, and they won’t hire a former Political Science major for anything, not even to clean toilets.

Let me tell you, Obama better get us out of this shit because I cannot stand the way like is now. Here I am, living with my mother and my brother, and both out to possibly kill me. I don’t even have a dollar to wipe my ass with, I have to wipe my ass with tissue I borrowed from the next door neighbor and I owe him sixty cents on the dollar for using it.

Well, I am off to get Starbucks Coffee that I really cannot afford.

Really.

Diary of a Madwoman, part one

Hello?

Hello?

*microphone feedback*

Yeah, um,  well I, um am writing a blog because my mouth is too big for myspace, facebook, and that annoying twitter.

So here I am, ready to chat.

Right now, I am going through bouts of heartrending terror, and low lows, wanting to cut myself at times.

I am battling medicaid and medicare to get my prescription medication bills paid, and nobody seems to want to do it.

I am helping to babysit a pretty dog,  Panda,  but I really don’t want to do it anymore.

I feel alone most of the time, and I don’t have any friends, and that includes my family.

I got my bachelor’s degree in Political Science, but yet I am back in school, getting a degree in a skilled profession less than a year later. Does that fucking make any sense? A BA to an A.A.S? It doesn’t to me…I fucking hate it. I have to explain shit to my family. “No, but I don’t have skills to use in the workforce.” Yes, I would like to go and get my MA in Women’s History from Sarah Lawrence College. But I can’t, because what fucking type of job am I going to get when I finish?

Therefore, I am now going to Berkeley College, the free-standing school, working on becoming a paralegal, pretending to myself that I am a Accounting Major,  at my fucking advanced age, with all the bloody brain damage that I have,  knowing that I cannot do ONE SHIT in Accounting. But pretending doesn’t hurt, at this point.

It can only help.

Because there is nothing else to do in this life. I’ve tried killing myself like a dozen times and I continued to be regurgitated back into this world. I,  like everyone else, have NO idea why I am here.

So, someone is going to pay for my prescription pills that I got. And I am a fucking accounting major. If I do real well, I might get another Bachelor’s degree in Accounting and then get a Master’s and a CPA. Or is that a CFA?

I don’t know. My mother gets mad at me when I say that I don’t know.  She thinks I utter those words waay too much. I told her that is the best answer that I can give her at that time. I believe in honesty.

Not that I am that honest. Like if I see bugs and I don’t feel like killing them, I don’t say shit. If mother finds them and kills them, that’s her shit. Cool, its dead.

I am out of words.

But I shall be back.

Madelyne