Wednesday, June 5th 2019

It only took until June this year

It seems that I'm finally coming out of my winter depression. It's only June. Only half the year has been wasted.

The extremely extended "slow season" didn't help my mood, either. I might not like the Event Industry, but at least work keeps me from navel-gazing my depression. You'd think that having 5-6 months of little to no work would be great, right? I can finally go camping, go hiking, spend days out and about, visit friends in different states, etc...

Except, if you're not working and when you were, you were barely doing better than treading water, 6 months becomes a famine and you stop leaving your house for fear of spending any money on anything at all, ever.

No, it's not good for my mental health. When I can't even bring myself to spend $50 on a tank of gas, that is not good for my emotional well-being.

Anyway. I started running again, and May was intense with work. June should even out, and the good thing is, even with the lean 1st half of 2019, I made it through with my savings intact. I'm so much closer to buying an RV, so much closer to being a little more nomadic. I just need to keep at it. By next winter... maybe next spring, I should be a little more free. RV + motorcycle = less living expenses. That's the plan.

Thursday, May 16th 2019


I wish that hiring the IATSE local meant that we were getting experienced, skilled technicians.

The sad fact is that, most of the time, I’m teaching the stagehand we were forced to hire, how to do something basic, like how to hang a leko.

Then, in effect, if I don’t micromanage and supervise the tightening of every single nut and cheeseboro, I end up with a fucked up hang which *I* am responsible for. And guess what gets reported to the head office? That I fucked up. Not that Local 16 fucked up one of the most basic skills in LX, that I’m the one who fucked up.

So then, when I eventually get fired over something like an improperly hung light, I wonder who will hire me.

Oh. Local 16 will. It’s really a quite brilliant recruitment strategy.

Friday, April 5th 2019

Stella (or how i regress to a 17 year old writing in their journal when my great aunt dies, pt 1)

Current Mood: crushed

My aunt Stella passed today. She was 97.

This isn't necessarily a post about that, although I did call off work tonight because I'm crying much harder than I expected. Sobbing, even.

I think some of it is due to the realization that she was the last of that generation in my family. The last of the Great Depression family, the last of the WWII relatives. The last in my family of The Great Generation. That, in itself, is cause to take a moment.

Oh. Well, the original angry post has already slipped by me... something about how time sucks and getting old is bullshit because not only do I still feel that my shit is perpetually untogether, but now everyone I love is dying. And dying at an accelerated rate. All of them. Even my 34 year old sister. Everyone.

Fuck time. Fuck aging. Oh, gee, I'm a little calmer now as I watch everyone I hold dear fade away, I'm a little more emotionally stable as I watch things I build fall apart repeatedly, and, yes, I can process things a little better with slightly more maturity than, say, when I lost a job at the age of 19 or something, but that doesn't mean that any of this garbage stops happening.

In fact, if anything, I'm just more aware of how nothing in life is fair and very little holds any meaning at all.

Monday, March 25th 2019

more time to process

I've had a little more time to process my sister's diagnosis and what it means to me.

1) I'm ready to move to Arizona to take care of her during her surgeries and subsequent treatment.
-This is actually ok for me. I won't miss much. except the mountains, the forests, and the ocean. Hm. Is this ok?
2) I will stay positive, but realistic. In my mother's case, this was the beginning of a 15 year battle that ended with brain cancer and her death. It's easy to shift that timeline to Danielle, but I shouldn't do that. I should accept it as a possibility, but not as the only path and sole outcome for her. It's going to be more difficult than the words entail.

It's difficult to ignore the selfish fears. The voice that's screaming to go get checked for the gene. The voice that's saying it's an excuse to move to Casa Grande and get out of this rat race for a while. The voice that is terrified of losing the only family member who seems to truly understand me and sees through the years of scapegoating. The angry voice that feels vindicated in its nihilism as it mutters, "she's only 34."

The angry voice that curses my parents for procreating and handing down a cesspool of genes that are killing us much faster than it killed them or their parents.

ugh. this went dark pretty quickly. back to the processing.

Wednesday, March 20th 2019

Dear Boss:

Dear Boss:

Because of your company-wide email tirade, I will no longer ever look at my phone during an event. So please forgive me when I don't know detailed information about the event, since all of our info is distributed electronically.

Also, when you offer me work and then take it away 10 minutes later because I couldn't take out my phone and accept the shift, you are literally taking food out of my mouth.

Someone Looking For A New Employer

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