The Fucking Fuck Post.

For the last two weeks, I think I've been pretty good about remaining positive, but I've definitely reached my (fucking) breaking point. Oh, I'm definitely there. Because you sit, and you (fucking) wonder--how long? How (fucking) long do I have to wait until an employer calls me back and offers me a (fucking) job?

I realize that they're all in no big hurry, and I realize that there are probably applicants for these jobs that I expected interviews for that are getting interviews because they're more qualified than me. I (fucking) understand. But to get no calls, except for the holiday temp places, just seems sad, sad, sad to me. I'm very much so beginning to hate myself, and everything, and all of this shit that keeps piling on in addition to being unemployed is pushing me over the (fucking) edge. For example, last week, when some (motherfucking) asshole hit my car, and busted my side mirror. And didn't leave a note. I suppose a lot of (fucking) people don't leave notes, but I think what irritates me more is that someone is so (fucking) stupid that they hit my mirror when--what? Trying to park? Trying to pass one of the 800 buses in this neighborhood? (Did you know that both buses and busses are technically correct spellings? Is nothing (fucking) consistent in life?) And then last (fucking) night, I got in a huge fight with the Good Doctor, except it wasn't a fight at all, because all he does is ignore my phone calls, which is 100 times worse than fighting. (Fucking) especially when he invites me to dinner with him and his mom, and then I call him when I get off work, and then he doesn't answer. And then when he calls back, for some reason my (fucking) phone doesn't ring--it does that sometimes--and he leaves a message that says: you didn't answer, I guess that means you're not coming.

And then I call him back (fucking) immediately, and he doesn't answer. And the phone has to be right fucking by him. And then I call him back two more times, then text him to ask why he isn't answering, and then call again. And then, a half hour after we're supposed to go to dinner, he just sends me a text that says: I'm fed up with you. Which does nothing but make me (fucking, fucking) irrate because it doesn't make any sense, and it is simply how I feel about him. He also texted me the night before to let me know that I have become boring which is (fucking) ridiculous. And (fucking) untrue. I think for someone who cannot spend one (fucking) dollar on something because she doesn't have a job, that I'm pretty un-(fucking)-boring.

Of course, since I'm broke as hell, and borrowing money from my parents, shitty things insist on keeping to happen. For example, the Star Tribune has, for three weeks, not delivered my Sunday paper after I have called to to tell them hasn't been delivered. Still no paper. Then, the (fucking) state of MN denied my unemployment. Why? Why (fucking) why? Because I've worked in (and for) this state for 8 years, and I haven't put my time in? Because unemployment is made for people like me who get (fucking) fucked over by their employers? I don't even really (fucking) know why, although based on the application right now, it looks like it's because I vounteer my time to Graywolf on Mondays and Tuesdays. So. Because I vounteer my time to a nonprofit organization, the (fucking) state has told me that I don't deserve my (fucking) $99 a (motherfucking) week. I called them to ask why. I was on hold for 20 minutes. They said: you can have your unemployment (maybe, if you're employer says you weren't discharged) in (maybe) 4 weeks. And all I think about is how my brother lived on unemployment for so long, spending it on alcohol, because he lived at home. And then I continue to hate everything.

And, really, they should just give that (fucking) money to me, because it's just going right (fucking) back to the state anyway. Since I got a speeding ticket on the way home from an amazing Graywolf reading event. Finally something fun, something I loved, and on the way home, I get (fucking) pulled over. I don't get a speeding ticket for 2 years, and then, when I'm umployed and the last (fucking) thing I can afford is a speeding ticket, I get pulled over. When I seriously thought it was a 65, and it was a 55 on 35W. When the (fucking) police officer was just parked on the (fucking) hill on the side of the interstate, with his stupid little radar gun, with his unmarked police car, waiting for people to drive by. And here's me, the recently unemployed, unbelievably broke and depressed girl in her shitty (fucking) car, going 69. Because I'm sure he didn't have anything (fucking) better to do than park on a hill on the side of an interstate. I'm sure he couldn't just fucking catch speeders the normal way. Oh, and I'm sure there weren't people going over 69, it just so happened that I happened to be in the right lane becasuse my (fucking) exit was a half mile away. And I sure need to pay $142 (motherfucking) dollars right now, because some stupid motherfucker couldn't, instead, go to--I don't know. North Minneapolis to stop someone from getting shot. Instead, catching people in a ridiculously low speed zone is more important.

So, that's it. I don't even have (fucking) jokes to make, or positive comments. Or anything. I'm grateful that my parents aren't killing me and are helping me with money. I'm grateful that Highland Days is merely days away, but just nervous because I can't spend the money I want to, or nervous that I won't pull myself out of this depression before the people I love the most get here. But I'm just really, really, hate (fucking) life right now. I think I have a (fucking) right to. I think I have a right to feel just a little bit sorry for myself, because I brought some of this shit on (the speeding ticket, I fucking guess--but it's not like I was thinking--whee! I'm speeding!) but some of it is out of (fucking) nowhere. I just can't even make (fucking) jokes about it anymore. I'm defeated. I go to bed crying, I wake up crying, and I throw my hands in the air, and ask my bedroom why. What I did. No answer. No good news. Everything I've invested a little bit of faith in right now has let me down. Sometimes twice-over. So. Whoever it is that wins, (fucking) wins.