Written @ 10:04 a.m. on 2007-06-26
Brain Dump
Hello white box of Diaryland.Been very busy lately, but not feeling very creative. I have been setting up to work in tech support from home as an independent contractor. I work with another company that collects the contracts. I finished my training course, opened a corporate bank account and completed my tax forms yesterday, only to find that there is no work available to me from the people collecting the contracts. New jobs come in all of the time, so now I have to wait. Nothing worth having is easy! So, it looks like I might have a couple of days vacation, and then, after that, I will be working from home and controlling my own schedule! Hooray! That, and child support, and I might have a chicken in my pot! Well, you know, hypothetically...
That's all very boring. I guess the bottom line is I NEED MONEY!!!!
BoSo was in a motorcycle accident Sunday night. Thank god he is ok. It looks like his leg may be broken, but the doctors told him that they couldn't tell because it was so badly swollen. It is in a splint, but, thank Gods, his head and his hands are ok. Legs are extraneous in the tattoo world. I know several who work without them. I think I will cook something for BoSo and his grandmother to eat tonight. Last night they ate pizza because neither of them are able to cook. BoSo told me he was in so much pain he knocked himself out with a bottle of Jim Beam. The painkillers had no effect on him. Why am I not surprised?
When I was a teenager my mother broke her ankle in seven places. It shattered. She told me that was the most pain she had ever felt in life. She was in and out of conciousness. It was very bad.
My nightmares have been getting worse. I dreamed that my ex had B. poisoned, and paid to have me killed, but the men did not kill me. They sold me as a sex slave. There were 20 woman in a closet, unable to stand, who were given only shirts to wear, no pants, no shoes, no underwear, so that they couldn't run away. There was one window, and we took turns going to breathe the air. I was on my period, and was given a pad, but with no underwear to hold it in place, I had to squeeze it between my legs. We stayed in that closet until a customer came, then one was selected, given an outfit, and went to "work". My customer came, and it was my ex. They said, "You don't want that one, she's on the rag." My ex said,"Oh,yes! I do." He had thought I was dead. He spit in my face while he raped me. The details were very real, and very gruesome, and again, it's becoming a routine, I wake up as traumatized as though it had really happened. I remember that there are people right now, living in warehouses, treated like subhuman sex machines. I remember that there were children who died needlessly in Poland, and everywhere. I remember the suffering of the world. I'm becoming afraid to sleep. My best friend tells me that this is the way of the shaman. Most people wouldn't want it.
B. takes time out of whatever he is doing lately, to come home to put me to bed. I'm like a child.