Well, when Meg checks in....

That means I'm not blogging as much as I should be. I will now explain why.

Virgin's got me on a blend of days and nights. This has taken a toll on my sleep schedule, therefore my fibromyalgia has kicked in again. Slightly elevated in terms of pain, not all-out crippled the way I was in 2006 and 2007. Mind you, I have been unable to find another part-time job given my possible eviction, so it's been Legal Aid, phone calls, writing letters, dealing with lawyers. Pro bono, of course, since I don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. (Get those Angela's Ashes images out of your heads, kiddies!) Some idiot in my landlord's office did send me a new lease. I find that so funny since I'm going to sign it and stand before a judge to ask, just as Joe Strummer did, "Should I stay or should I go now?"

The roommate situation officially went bust the first weekend of June when, panicked, my mother made a phone call and a critical decision to use plane tickets that she won in a raffle (of all things!) from Jet Blue airlines was made. I had told her of my panic attacks that started again (palpitations, crying jags, etc.) She came up for three days and wanted to meet the person I was living with to discuss just what the hell was going on. She said she needed to see all of this herself and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Hey, I'm lucky to have a mom that gives this much of a damn about me, and since she's my only living relative left, what am I gonna say, "NO?"

Up she arrives, key and suitcase, kisses my cats, proceeds to clean my kitchen and living room (par for the course--she never touches my bedroom, hasn't since I was about 13) and sat down for a lovely chat with my then-roommate. I was working the night shift. While I don't know exactly what they spoke about, good old Soothsaying Mom (who's ten times witchier and more Irish than I could ever be) told me she got the distinct impression that not only was this person intimidated by me (???), but also by her (!!!). Mom and I look like before and after, quite the startling impression on anyone who's never met both of us at the same time. I look like a younger version of her: hair, weight, eyes, voice and all, and she looks like an older version of me. I have seen my future, and I know damn well it's in my mother's face. That face will one day stare at me in the mirror.

The conversation was something to the point of how this person didn't know how to help me and how her family was never that great to her, but crystal-ball-loving mom suspected something else. She said to me it was as if there was something secretive in the room, the reaction, the words. Almost like a child sitting in the principal's office, having been berated for some snippy deed. She told me this person most likely had a plan to get out and stay out. Mind you, I put myself in a dangerous situation rescuing this person from a psychotic aunt who most likely suffers from bipolar disorder at the most, or histrionic personality disorder at the very least. It could have been me who had a chunk of brick, wood or pipe flung at my head. I asked for a mere $300 to help with my bills. Getting any money out of this person turned out to be an ordeal. (And if she's reading this right now, let me say how betrayed, insulted and hurt I feel. You don't walk out on someone who's literally trying to keep a roof over their head. But! I forgot! I was supposed to be a surrogate mother. Not my job, sweetheart. Not my job.)

What I did see is someone who doesn't want to contribute, can't share, doesn't know what to do, how to act, or what to say. Mom noticed this, as well. "She probably doesn't know any better and feels the need to protect herself at all costs." Well, thanks for stating the obvious, mom, but it sure as shit doesn't make me feel any better. Plus, this person still has my keys, something I do not like, nor trust, at all.

The last email I got from this person was June 26. Let's see if I hear from this person again. Selfish, stubborn, ignorant, and living in her own world. Nope. Not me. Not my thing.

No time to read, eh? Well, if she took the damn headphones out of her head, perhaps a paper or two might fit in there.

No time for the news, eh? No time for TV? Too bad, I'm a CNN junkie. Always will be. In fact, it might have been my influence that got her to register to vote in the first place. I can be a mentor, but I refuse to be a mother. And my ovaries refuse, too. Since they stopped working when I was 25, there's not much that can be done in that department.

More of Mom's soothsaying and in her own words, "Well, she's probably got some bank account with money saved. It's obvious she's got somewhere to go and isn't used to doing anything except what she wants. If she's not back with her own mother, she found someone to live with. Or off of." I forgot that part: good parasites never kill their host. They just take what they need, detach and move on. A fitting analogy.

Well, said, Mom. You may cling to your rosary, but you're still the most loveably witchy woman I've ever met. Should you pass on, I know that power will reside within me. From ancient times, it goes down from one woman to another. Her mother had it in Ireland, gave it to my mom, and she will give it to me. I've got a smidge, but I know I'll get more. Not that I'm ready to say goodbye, Mom and I are becoming better friends after this.

Defections and betrayals. Ah, a common occurence in my life. I will not dumb myself down for sheep. Sheep get slaughtered. I, somehow, will always survive. And escape, if possible.

And that's what's been going on, Meg. Once again, I'm finding out who cares for me and who doesn't.

This person's things are waiting in a box. Should this person not show up, they will be shipped out to her job when I get $$ to do so. Right now, I'm busy eBaying Roxlander's records so we can split what dividends should come of it. He gives a shit about me, too, and makes even less money than I do right now.

So few friends, so few colleagues. Not a time to take, take, take from me. Now I will give to me.

Just prayers are needed, my true friends. Prayers and words of hope. I need you more than ever. The rest of you? Get out, get gone, and stay away. You needed me more than I needed you.

I am not a fool. Don't treat me like one. Never forget my legendary temper. From what I see lately? I've got plenty of reasons to unleash the demon beast. She lurks right under the surface and is very hungry for some playtime.

And that's how I am, Meg! Thanks for giving a damn. You are in my thoughts and prayers. Kiss the doggies and kitties for me.