Been chatting with A quite a bit again, mostly online but occasionally phone as well. I like him quite a lot. He poked Mr. Peacock about speaking to me last night; apparently I am "on the agenda", but there is procrastination going on.

On the worrisome side, I started feeling quite ill about a week ago. I thought it was just a flu bug. Then maybe food poisoning. But either of those would have eased by now; this has scaled back but not vanished, and it's starting to react to triggers. I told A my concern; we agreed that Mr. P does NOT need to be told anything right now, not until I know for certain one way or the other.

Jobhunting continues. The exH made a very generous offer to eat the remaining car payments until I'm employed again, which will free up a chunk of change. If I can do unemployment and the occasional under-the-table job like artist's modeling I can manage, I think, until I find something else.

Mr. Peacock is ignoring me. Very emphatically and in a manner that makes it clear that I've lost a friend.

I feel incredibly used.

A and I have been talking; he has no idea WTF is going on there. He suggested playing hard to get; my problem with that is that I shouldn't have to play that game with a friend. The entire POINT of FwB is to avoid that sort of garbage and game-playing, isn't it?

Really, I'm too old for games anyway.

Still jobhunting. I found a listing for a dream job for me, but I'm so far from qualified that it's comedic.

Thanksgiving was, if not remarkable, at least not as bad as last year. I roasted a bird, made cranberry sauce and dressing and gravy, and have a ton of leftovers.

Cute. Mr. Peacock said he'd call yesterday so we could hash out what the heck happened Monday night (before he did the IM equivalent of hanging up on me.) Then he said he might not get a chance. Then he said he would. Then might not get a chance again. Then didn't.

Mind you, he wasn't too busy to participate in a truly epic thread on Facebook with a couple of friends and me.

A has given me permission to beat Mr. P about the head and shoulders with his own guns. Also had an interesting and enlightening talk with him about Mr. P.

Hell of a way to wake up.

This morning I woke up to my three-year-old climbing into bed with me for morning snuggles. This is nothing unusual.

What was unusual was hearing the child say "Doggy style me!"

Needless to say, she was with her father yesterday evening.

I asked her to repeat what she said, but she wouldn't; I suspect that I didn't hide my initial distress well enough.

And I can't do anything except log it. And hope she does it around a therapist or a mandatory abuse reporter. Her father has already made it clear that he will accuse me of insanity to defend himself.

I hate this; I can't protect my daughter and it's clear that something is going on.

Off and running!

The import process has started; I hope y'all enjoy. Plot twists happen along the way, just keep reading.

Mr. Peacock still isn't speaking to me, though A and I had a chat last night that touched on it. (Also found out that A drunkenly let slip on Sunday that we've been chatting; the fallout from that is going to be interesting.) Things will happen, and it's pretty certain that Mr. P's taking out old heartbreak on me. He absolutely will NOT even give me the chance to get close that everyone else gets, and I haven't done anything to deserve it. Going to poke at him today to call me tonight, dammit, because that fight is still unresolved and it's really upsetting me. And I need to be able to concentrate on other things.

And I heard from M, the Cool Lawyer last night! I do like talking to him, and fortunately he seems to find the soap opera amusing. (Good thing, too.) The call dropped, but I'm sure we'll catch up more later. (The naughty part of me is a little sorry that he's married and I'm still semi-client-ish, he'd be fun to go to dinner with.)

Still no progress on the job front and I'm past sheer gibbering panic and into that strange calm of "I'm so fucked..." Looking at tech writer jobs now to broaden the field, as it's something I'd be extremely good at. Still no joy. Must keep looking...

Coming soon...

I complain a lot.

My life is a soap opera. One written by a rather sadistic Scriptwriter with a taste for stereotypes and trite situations.

People seem to like reading the soap opera.

Soooooo...

Over the next week or so I'm going to try to import over my rants, commentary, and general online diary-ing that people find so fascinating. As a note, comments on "old" posts will be disabled; there's no point in commenting on stuff years past.

This blog will be ad-supported, and will have a donation button as well. If you like what you read, please, please, please donate; I'm currently between jobs and having a rough time finding a new one in this economy despite my best efforts.

Enjoy the show. This is my life.