Moving Week! 

Been in the process of moving, so won’t be posting for a long while. 

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Civil War Ball

I had been dressed in my outfit three hours in advance. My hair was perfected. My makeup applied and reapplied at least 4 times. My skirt was properly altered. My bustle was on par. I debated for an hour over weather or not to wear my corset under my dress., then I realized I valued breathing and if I was going to be able to dance properly, I had to decide against it. Everything from my goggles to my striped stockings screamed Steampunk Time Traveler. I was so ready for this, while also, absolutely terrified.

“You should flirt with someone tonight. Do it for me.” One of my lady friend had encouraged me when she talked to me a few hours before on the phone. I sighed. “Okay, I’ll try.”

 

I offered to drive. A nice change of pace for my Bestie, since she was usually the one to drive us places when we went out somewhere. Mainly because she was the one who knew where we were going. This time I told her that she could play copilot while I drove, which was what I absolutely needed to do for redemption over every time she drove us places, as well as what I needed to do to keep myself from having some kind of panic attack. I could focus on driving. I could keep us all from being killed by crazy Illinois drivers trying to get up North to their weekend homes. I could navigate the construction. It would be a much less daunting task than worrying about the impending social interactions I would be forced to have with complete strangers.

Thankfully the conversation was always cheerful. I drove and added commentary as needed while my Bestie, her Fiancé, and his sister (her future sister-in-law) chatted about wedding plans and life. I had told them all about my crazy past two weeks and how much I needed to get away and pretend to be someone else. They agreed, feeling the same necessity for their own lives. I came up with a back story in between lulls in conversation. I was form the year 3100 PA…Post Apocalypse. We were experienced the industrial age all over again, but this time with time travel theories perfected, and finally mastered by yours truly. I was a lovely, single, adventurer and inventor. Amazing how you feel more yourself when you are not yourself at all.

“So many boys are going to ask you to dance.” My bestie encouraged.

I was suddenly struck with full terror. There were going to be men. Civil War Period dressed men. Probably with handsome beards. Probably a bunch of them had come to these kinds of events all the time? I began to calmly ask questions about the event and venue. Trying to get a feel of what I was up against. From what I gathered, tons of people come every year, some with partners and some without. Oh great. Some without. I scolded myself for thinking this was a good idea. What was I thinking going to an event with men who might be single when I wasn’t ready to be pursued? I was an idiot.

Upon arriving the ladies and myself retired to the restroom to clean ourselves up and talk without my Bestie’s Fiancé to overhear. I played with my goggles, just to give my nervous hands something to do. Pulled my gloves off and put them on again. Adjusted the bobby pins in my hair. “You look fine.” My Bestie assured me. That was what I was afraid of. Too fine. Things never went right for me when I was pretty. People fell in love when they saw a pretty face. I didn’t want love. I didn’t want to be pretty. Next thing I knew the girls took me by the arms. I was being dragged out of the bathroom when I wasn’t quite ready to face the room full of patrons in their hoop skirts and tailed shirts. It was like living in Pride and Prejudice with the exception of the love story.“I saw a cute ginger across the room I’m really hoping asks you to dance.” My Bestie told me on the way to our seats against the wall.

Almost everyone, but some children, were in costume. I was the only Steampunk one there. Which had clearly been a mistake, because everyone and their brother came up to talk to me and ask about my outfit and tell them how happy they were someone showed up as Steampunk. I played a wallflower for a while. Terrified I was going to be asked to dance by some handsome or equally as bad…a horrible man… and look like a complete idiot. The dancing began, and I began to feel a little sorry for coming. If I didn’t dance, I looked just as foolish as if I did. After a few minutes and half way during the instruction segment of the dance, I began to feel even more foolish. Maybe I was wrong to come? Maybe no one would dance with me? Maybe I would just be a wallflower and feel excluded like so many times before?

“May I have this dance?”

Terrified, I turned to see where the voice came from, only to see a young man about the age of twelve in a tailed coat and a big grin on his face.

I smiled and honestly replied “I really don’t know how.”

He took my hand anyway “Don’t worry m’lady I’ll show you. I’ve done this one a million times.”

He wasn’t kidding. In our group of line dancers, he was probably the most well versed. He showed me all the steps quickly before we jumped in the group. It was extremely fun. Similar to some dances I had recalled from middle school gym class. Square dancing style mostly. He talked for a short while after the dance. He had been coming with his family for years. His mom wouldn’t dance with him tonight, because she claimed he was “old enough to ask a girl.” So he did. I was the first girl outside of his family he had ever danced with. I told him I felt honored.

Third dance I was asked for, was by a young man about my age. He was a bit shorter than me. Dark. Handsome. The kind of handsome that made you feel stupid to say anything. While we danced I felt super weird. He kept asking me questions about myself, fishing for information about the mysterious Steampunk girl. I answered vaguely. Mostly because I was so focused on not stepping on him because I had no freaking idea how to really do a waltz. Clearly he did, but I was so out of practice I found myself apologizing left and right for being so bad. “You’re doing really well,” he assured me. I didn’t feel so assured. I practically fled from him after the dance in horror. I went to tell my Bestie how awkward I had been.

“They’re making a pretty big deal over you.” She speculated. I rolled my eyes at her and she laughed.

“Seriously though, most of the people here are actually family. This whole thing was started by a few homeschool groups who were related when the Reenactment society left. We’re odd balls here. We aren’t related to anyone. That’s why he was pumping you for information. You’re like, quality potential!”

“I don’t know how I feel about being ‘quality potential’ when the other options are his relatives. Does’t feel much like quality. More like a process of elimination.” We both chuckled at the novelty of being one of only a handful of women who weren’t related, and therefore, options. The my Bestie shook off the novelty for after a brief moment and went to dance with her Fiancé for about an hour. I took the dances that came after that. Mostly from adorable young men, and a few fathers who’s wives decided to dance with their sons, and left them to save a wallflower from feeling left out.

The dances later in the evening (after parents with children left) were what my Bestie and I called “Speed dating dances” where you danced fairly slowly, but got to meet every man on the dance floor if not in the room because you switched partners so many times. Brief conversation were ongoing only after the dance was over. I was thankful no one came running back to talk to me privately afterward as I was observing left and right around me. I wasn’t ready for that, but found it cute to watch the next slow dance be full of new couples. It was romantic, and only slightly tinged with a smug realization that the couples on the floor were options only because of the vast amount of relatives surrounding them. I found the thought amusing.

The evening came to a close and I walked back to the car with my party. The drive home was quiet as my passengers began to nod off. Everyone was dropped off safely at their vehicles and drove away. I walked into my house and collapsed in my bed. Nearly leaving all my costume on. I felt like I had been hit by a Time Machine…and I never slept so well in my life.

Fog Rolling In

I watched the fog

Roll down the street

Like an ominous presence
Causing the street lights
And telephone lines
To disappear 
Moment by moment
As if it was stealing
Light out of the world
And cutting off
Our only form
Of communication

Drama of All Dramas

“What did he say?” 

“He just said “Blessings” and signed his name.” 
“Well that is a contrast from the “go to hell” he yelled at you a few years back isn’t it?” 
“Yup.” 
Last I heard he was going to continue on with his Christian Ministries degree to become a pastor. That was a terrifying thought. It’s been almost two years now since I decided to go static on that friendship. When we were in college, he started off okay. Was a good friend. Then my Senior year he started being abusive. Calling me names. Anything I said he was hellbent against. I didn’t know what. I didn’t know what I had done. The. I found out he liked me when I was dating a good friend of his. Things got worse. Other told me to cut off the friendship. So I did. I stopped talking to him. Cold shoulder. Nothing. 
He kept trying to contact me. Last night, he tried again. 
I have had a lot go on in my life in the last few weeks. Not only was it rough because of deaths, but my ex pretty much told me he wants me back and caused me even more drama than I wanted. I’m not interested, but the fact that he just can’t get over it is upsetting. The situation with my ex was bad enough. At best it was in poor taste. It started with him calling to check up on me because he heard about everything, and transitioned immediately and unceremoniously to him wanting me back. I could have punched him in the nose. Even my younger brother said “That was a really dick move.” He usually has very little to say about such things. The fact that he isn’t mature enough to keep the lines I had tried to draw there is upsetting. Even now, I don’t feel cared for. I feel like a piece of meat that people are fighting over. People who keep trying to force their way into my life in ways I do not desire. Now this. A former friend trying to force his way back into my life instead of letting me choose to let him in. Just another prick in the line of pricks that I have had to deal with in my life. 
Now I don’t want any of them in my life anymore. 
Now that I’m single, I suspect that is why my former friend is trying to contact me. When I explained things to my parents my father said right off the bat “He is obsessed with you. You need to cut him out of your life. We will call the police if we have to.” So last night, when he tried to contact me again, I blocked him on Facebook. About an hour later I got a text from another friend “Look at his Facebook status.” I didn’t see the text until I got up in the morning, so I responded that morning that I couldn’t because I blocked him, and that I didn’t want to know because I’m so over being angry about it and just want him to leave me alone. So I remain in the dark. I have no desire to know what it says. I just want him to go away and quit forcing himself into my life. 
Of all the people in the world, why do I attract the psychos? Or at least the line pushing jerks who can’t respect my boundaries? Why is all this drama happening now when I am at my least emotionally stable?
Ugh. 

$$

It’s been two months since I contacted the medical benefits customer services. I was told a notice was sent to the company I work for, informing them to stop taking funds out of my check and to reimburse me with the sum of money I am owed. 

Still I have heard nothing.

To give a bit of background, I switched from Short Hour in cosmetics a few months ago to Part Time in Visual Merchandising. Part Time associates get medical discounts through a discount program to use in conjunction with their insurance policies. Before the discounts ever were active, I canceled the service, only to find several months later that money was still being taken out of my check. 

Of course, part of it is my fault. I have direct deposit on my checks, so when I got most of my paper copies I hung onto them, but never opened them. Fortunately, I have every single one of them on file in chronological order. Hard copy. All on file. 

Now, several hundred dollars later, they are still taking money out of my check. Enough money to pay for two months or rent. Maybe two and a half months. Enough money that could go towards my groceries and multiple medical expenses. 

I keep telling myself that it will all work out. That everything will be fine and it’s all going to be okay. I keep praying and trusting God that justice will be served and I just get my money back. I keep hoping that I don’t have to lawyer up or write a ton of letters repetitively for several years before I see any result. 

I’m not asking for more than I am owed. I am just asking for the money I earned back. Is that too much? I don’t think so. 

Sandman

Maybe one day

The world will rest
A little more soundly
Under that deep blue
Blanket in the sky
Maybe things will 
Look up a bit more
Maybe the dust of the earth
Will mix with the dust of the stars
Maybe we will spin
With a little more vigor 
Maybe
Just maybe
We can all be that dust
The Sandman sends
For someone else
Again

$

I wrote out two large checks and sighed. My bank account was looking more and more sad with each expense. Moving was going to be so expensive that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to afford my place after I moved in. A second job, of course, was always an option, but I dreaded the exhaustion as well as the emotional trauma of dealing with another place of occupation and it’s people. 


The last time I had a second job it didn’t go so well. The people sucked and so did the customers. The hours would never work for me to get to my other job on time. It just was a bad idea. 


The things I cannot afford, of course, are things I do not need. I can give up my design freelance for a while so I won’t have internet other than what I can get on my phone. I can buy food sparingly. I don’t need another article of clothing in my life. I can find ways to go without using a ton of lights and electricity. Yet, none of it feels like enough. The only way my friends afford life is having a spouse to help bring in money, or by living rent free with family.


I still feel like I have set myself up to fall flat on my face. So here I am panic stricken over money. Angry over every silly thing I have ever purchased. Hating myself for needing things like food and having medical expenses. Wondering if it’s all going to be worth it. 

Heart Storms

Don’t let the cold

Gnaw you to your bones

Wrestle with the wind

Scream at the thunder

Scold that dark sky

As it tries to hinder you

Then return to the warmth

Of your soft bed

And shiver away the fright

Of that terrible angry storm 

In your heart