Here's the problem...

Ok i don't know what the problem is but damned if I don't have all the answers.  Today is my day off from work.  I really don't know what to do with myself on my days off.  I have a hard enough time trying to be sane for the 30 minutes each workday I have to myself...let alone an entire day!!?!??! It's too much...i can't handle it. Everything I do I feel like I should be doing something else.  Last time I had a day off I drove to work and studied and did laundry...and ended up doing work for free...and I prefer that to this!
     Today I cleaned up my dads house a little and chatted with him...it shouldn't be hard to talk with your father but maaaaaaan...ugh.  He's always loved to tell me the story about how when my mom first had cancer and started treatment, she found out she was pregnant with me...how the doctor said I was a miracle...and how I was the only baby to make it..blah blah blah.  It really is a nice story if you hear it...the problem is that I really can't believe any story he tells anymore so who knows...for all I know they found me in a trash can at Hardee's and decided to keep me (pleeeease let this be true). Anyway since he found out I'm off the vagina this story has taken a new twist and therefor has moved up on his list of stories.  So now I hear about Homer the wonder dog, how my highschool math teacher Mrs. Bidle told him i was so smart (which probably went something like, "Derek is really smart...but he refuses to do his homework.) and now how I was hooked up to a million tubes and wires as a baby and how he was mad about it but the nun told him it was ok because I was the only one to be able to hold a bottle...(i was always a really good eater so that's probably true). But then he says, "Yeah the doctor said you could have changes later in life...I don't know what he meant by that." Aka "It's ok your gay..."  I love the guy but...he's crazy as a loon.

Anyway like I said I've been working a lot.  I work at work...i eat at work...i sleep at work...I take my days off at work...I dream about work...work work work work.  AAAAAAAaaand I'm still poor.  Go figure.  Being back up north is both a strange mix of relaxing and frustrating.  There are times at night when the sun is going down and the lake is calm and the docks are empty and I feel almost at peace, then usually someone farts (me) and the moment passes.  No really  all I am missing is someone to sit next to me (cue the dramatic and slightly sad violin music).

Besides that, I've been attempting to remind myself that there is a world out there by reading the news...which reminds me...Michele Bachman's husband is flaaaaming.  It both makes me laugh and a little sick that heruns a clinic that "teaches gays how to be straight."  I've seen slinkys that are straighter than that dude.  It's one thing to be in the closet...it's another to fool around on the downlow...it's a new low to spend your time to convince others that being gay is wrong just so you can feel better about yourself.