I haven’t posted in a month. AGAIN. And here’s why: I am at a really bad place in my life now, and I don’t know when that will change.
I am not quitting my blog, but I am going to take a break. I may pop in from time to time, but I think I am going to “unplug” from life for a while. Last night, I almost quit Facebook. Now, it’s not like I post there everyday or anything, in fact, I rarely do. But I dislike Facebook intensely. I dislike what it stands for, and I feel it’s become an online popularity contest. Although I’m still out there doing my pre-Oscar viewing, I have no intention of every seeing The Social Network. I simply don’t give a shit.
Today, I will probably quit Facebook. And I think I will feel better when I do.
Today, I am going to the movies in a few hours to see Sofia Coppola’s Somewhere. Gina, if you’re out there I know you don’t like Ms. Sofia, but today’s the last day it’s showing, so a gurl’s got to do what a gurl’s got to do.
Also, in pre-Oscar viewing, if you haven’t rent Winter’s Bone yet, or seen it on the big screen, you should. The last time I think I was truly happy was on Oscar nomination morning when John Hawkes got nominated for Best Supporting Actor for playing Uncle Teardrop. I knew he would, against all odds! He’ll never win, but I love this guy so much. Come on all my fellow Deadwood fans (Bonnie, I’m talking to you!) you know you want this for him!
I confess, I found him dead sexy in this movie, against my better judgement. There’s just something about a crack-addled hillbilly with a gun and facial tattoos that does it for me. Yes, I’m seeking help.
Well, folks, the title of this post is double-edged. It refers to the above-mentioned movie and character, but also my crying jags. I have never been so unhappy in my life. I am desperately trying to find new employment, and just when an interview goes well, then I hear they’ve gone another way. I fear that my career is over at 43, and I will spend the rest of my life in this godforsaken town, working at this shitty bookstore company until they fold or lay me off, standing around like a cigar store Indian or waiting on bitter and mean customers. Standing on my feet for eight hours a day, and never having two days off in a week again. And I barely bring home $300 a week.
Now you know my shame. For I am. Deeply ashamed, of my life, of what I do, of how low I’ve sunk, of where I work. When people I knew if college and god forbid, high school come into the store and see me and recognize me, it’s all I can do to not crawl into a hole and die from the shame.
So yes, I’m taking some time off to unplug, reassess and figure out how I can make it through. I have truly never felt so low in my life.
Thanks for listening, all five of you. It has been appreciated.