Joy Denied

Yesterday, as I was looking at a cute baby, I couldn't help thinking that I have never experienced the joy of holding my own baby (Because I have no kids.).  And, hopefully, I never will.  I'm not nearly selfish enough to bring a baby into this world.  And on another day in which my body is racked with pain, my neighbors have woken me up, and I'm preparing to go to my job that is unsatisfying (to say the least), I know that I have made the right choice to not bring someone into this hell. 

Hell Is Other People

I'm really down at this point: even more than usual.  My credit card debt is out of control.  It's never far from my mind.  I'm obsessed with it: and for good reason.  This month, I probably won't be able to make my minimum monthly payments for the first time.  Of course, for a while now, the only reason why I was able to make those payments is by taking out monthly cash advances from my credit cards.  I was just denied a debt consolidation loan by Lending Club.  I sent an application to a local low-cost legal aid organization for help with filing for bankruptcy.  I'm waiting to hear from them.  I don't know if they'll help me or not.
Suicide seems more and more like the best option.  It's too hard, though.  It' should be easy.  If you're an adult, and no one is depending on you (kids, pets), then you should be able to go to a pharmacy and purchase pills that will kill you peacefully and painlessly in your sleep.  I'm not a bad guy.  I don't deserve to die a painful death.  I don't deserve to fail and end up paralyzed.  I could jump off a nearby bridge, but what if it didn't kill me?  I'd be a total mess.
Every day brings more and more reasons to die.  At work, some customers treat me like shit.  One of them bragged to me about how much money he has.  He started with, "It's nice to have money."  Then he told me his father-in-law is a millionaire, and he saved $300,000 from a job.  Now he has a job that pays him better than the other one.  I'm consumed with my very depressing financial situation, and this prick rubs his money in my face.
I've really come to dislike a coworker of mine.  She happens to be a young, attractive woman (stupid and boring, though).  She and I started at this company at the same time.  However, she must see herself as some sort of a leader.  When I'm working next to her (which I'd rather not), she doesn't mind her own fucking business and instead pays attention to what's going on with me.  I'll be doing something, and she'll start instructing me.  The problem is that I don't need her instruction; I'm doing just fine.  It's distracting and annoying.  
And to top it all off, I'm reading a book that mentions suicide repeatedly.  It is so hard to get through work.  It's so hard to get through the day.  It's so hard to live.

Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

The Smiths

Haven't blogged in a while.  There's at least two reasons for that.   First of all, I'm a complete mess, and, secondly, I have a job.  I got a job working for a major home-improvement chain store.  I'm still facing major credit card debt.  I might have to file for bankruptcy if I can't get a loan to pay off these credit cards.  But this job is difficult to tolerate.  To do what I'm doing, full-time, is a bit of a nightmare, but, as I and others have mentioned before, life itself is pretty much a nightmare.  I really have to tough it out to make it through the day.  To me, work has become an endurance challenge.  It's driving me crazier than I already am.

Here's a new section on the Bald Vegan!  It's called "thoughts."  I hope you like it!

I"m sure that life sucks.  Sometimes, when I'm in the midst of a deep depression, I remind myself that I can commit suicide anytime I want to, and it cheers me up a little.

I don't' believe in heaven, but I believe in hell, and this it it.  This planet has a history of violence that is staggering in its scope.

I'm jealous of the dead.

After death, even soft, healthy skin will rot.

That's thoughts for this week.  I'll end with a poem for a poet.

Who am I?
How do others see me?
How do I see myself?
What do others think of me?
Is that really me in the mirror?
Do I exist?
Will anyone miss me when I'm gone?

Angel of Death

My neighbor from hell might be the angel of death.  I've got enough keeping me down: depression, OCD, unemployment, massive credit card debt, etc.  But he's pushing me so far and so hard, that he might be just what I need to finally make me kill myself.
I need to sort through this.  I'm obsessed with him and the situation.  He's not worth my, or anyone else's, time, though.  I can't recall if I mentioned this before here.  I try to not repeat myself, I know it's annoying, but I can't be bothered to look back (too far) either.  My next-door neighbors woke me up around 1:00 am Christmas morning.  They were talking loudly in front of my door.  But that wasn't enough.  Then the asshole went out for a cigarette.  The whole time he was outside my windows, he was singing at the top of his lungs.  Wow, did he piss me off!  Then he came into the building: still singing.  I got out of bed, went to my front door, and yelled "Shut up!" as loudly as I could.  I was still very angry, which makes it hard to fall asleep again.  I lied there: cursing him.  When Monday came, I finally called the office about him.  I pretty much only complained about what I thought I could complain about.  I mentioned that he and his wife have conversations in the hallway at 5:00 am that I think they should have in their apt.: because of the time.  The office lady agreed with me.  Then I mentioned what happened Christmas, and that he ruined it.  He did.  I'm used to spending holidays alone, but that made it extra worse.  The office lady was very understanding and said she would talk to them.  
The next day, I saw them.  As I was parking in the lot, I saw them walking to the office.  He looked angry.  They had to go to the office.  It was a close call for me.  If one of them looked back, they could have seen me in my car.  I'm worried they will find out which car is mine, because I obviously don't want it to be vandalized.
Since then, I haven't heard any 5 am hallway conversations.  I also haven't heard him singing at 1 am.  But I've heard him singing.  He forces me to listen to his singing every single day.  I hear it through the walls.  I hear it coming from the hallway through my front door.  It's so annoying.  I definitely feel like I'm being harassed.  I've been thinking about how to deal with it.  I might call the office again, but, since he's not doing it late at night or very early in the morning, I could very well be shit out of luck.  I've also considered yelling through the wall, or the door, at him.  These are some of the things I've considered yelling at him when I hear his shitty singing;
"Stop singing through the wall!"
"Stop singing in the hall!"
"Stop singing through the door!"
"Stop forcing me to listen to your singing!"
"Shut up!"
"Stop harassing me, (their apt number)!"
"Hey hey, ho ho, (their apt #) has got to go!"
"You're evil!  If you don't stop harassing me, you're going to hell (His wife is religious.)!"
"Stop harassing me, or I'll call the police (pretty much a bluff  I doubt they'd do anything.)
Typing them out, they sure seem ridiculous.  But that's the point.  He's driving me crazy.  That's another one ("You're driving me crazy!").  So far, I haven't done any of that.  I'm worried about making the situation worse.  Maybe I'll try calling the office again.
Today, he was singing his head off again.  I left to go for a walk.  I could still hear him when I was outside the building.  Then I realized that he left the building after me.  He also walked in the same direction I did.  I felt like turning around and confronting him.  But I'm so pissed off at him, that a face-to-face confrontation is probably a very bad idea.  I felt better after my walk, as I usually do.  Exercise is great therapy.  It really helps.  But, of course, once I got home, I heard him singing again.  Something's gotta give.             

Got to Give It Up

 
I haven't been posting much original stuff here lately.  It seems like my page views took a nose dive when I shared my thoughts about god and religion.  People will be offended by my thoughts on this subject, but I'm likewise offended when a Christian says that anyone who hasn't accepted Jesus as their lord and savior is going to burn in hell.
I had a very uncomfortable psychiatrist appointment this week.  As usual, I met with her and the director of the mental health place I've been going to for a while now.  The appointment was going the way it usually does, when the director asked if I'd gained weight.  I admitted I had.  They began to interrogate me about the weight gain.  I was asked if I still exercise.  The answer was yes.  Then I was asked if I drink.  The answer was yes.  How much?  About 5 times a week.  This is where the mood in the room changed.  How much do you drink?  I had to do a little math in my head, because I usually drink vodka, and I measure out 1 ounce of it into each drink, which is 2/3 of a shot.  I answered that I drink about 5 drinks a day (5 times a week) or more.  The mood really got dark from that point on.  After all, it was clear that I was a fat drunk: definitely not the best day of my life.  Both of them stopped smiling and looked very concerned.  Then it was established that I've been drinking like this the entire time I've been on Prozac.  I was told that the combination of Prozac and the alcohol I'd been drinking wasn't good for my health.  They are concerned about my liver.  I need to see a doctor and get my blood tested.  It was also established that my friend thinks I'm annoying when I drink too much, and I black out regularly.  I was told these are enough good reasons to quit.  I was asked about other drugs.  I admitted to smoking weed a few times a month.  They seemed to be much more concerned about the alcohol.  I asked if I could finish what I had left: 4 beers and less than 1 bottle of vodka.  I was told I should pour it out.  I probably won't do that.  I plan to give it to a friend.
I haven't drank any alcohol since that meeting, which was 2 days ago.  I want to quit.  I'm much more likely to feel better the day after not drinking than if I had drank.  I don't like going to the liquor store.  I think liquor stores are evil places.  When someone goes into business manufacturing alcohol, or they sell it in stores, they are, in my opinion, involved in evil activities.  People drink themselves to death.  People drink and drive and kill others as a result.  People get drunk and become violent.  I'm hoping I can quit.  Unfortunately, alcohol is everywhere.
These are lyrics to a song by the great Thin Lizzy that are applicable:

       "Got To Give It Up"

I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff
I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff

Tell my mama and tell my pa
That their fine young son didn't get far
He made it to the end of a bottle
Sitting in a sleazy bar

He tried hard but his spirit broke
He tried until he nearly choked
In the end he lost his
Bottle drinking alcohol

I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff
I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff

Tell my brother I tried to write and
Put pen to paper but I was frightened
I couldn't seem to get the words out right
Right quite right

Tell my sister I'm sinking slow
Now and again I powder my nose
In the end I lost my bottle
It smashed in a casbah

I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff
I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff

I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff
I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff

I've been messing with the heavy stuff
For a time I couldn't get enough
But I'm waking up and it's wearing off
Junk don't take you far

Tell my Mama I'm coming home
In my youth I'm getting older
And I think it's lost control
Mama I'm coming home

I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff
I've got to give it up I've got to give it up
That stuff