The Return of Pandemonic

I can hardly believe it has been three years since I posted as Pandemonic. However, lest you think I have been lazy, incarcerated, or perhaps both, my real life person has been busy writing novels. Also busy working in the Real Life business, but that’s boring.

So far, I have completed three novels, self-published one, and am in the process of editing the other two. Also working on finishing a fourth. So I have been very busy. I’ve also been blogging in my real name.

So why would I come back to the Pandemonic blog?

In a word, anonymity. I love that while here, I am a nameless, faceless pandemonic person. My other blog features my real name. There I feel as though I can’t quite cut loose as myself. You always have to worry about stepping on someone’s toes. If you can say one thing about the modern man, most of us are too sensitive to take a joke, and too closed minded to look at things from varying perspectives.

This is why Pandemonic’s Time and Space was started: as a way to vent and bitch and moan and be politically incorrect without suffering the slings of Internet trolls. Been there, done that, and I can tell you, it’s no fun.

I nearly forgot the password and the email address I had used to launch this area of WordPress. But…obviously not. Perhaps I am not getting as old as I thought I was.

Anywhooo…I will be changing around the look of the blog. I feel a bigger need for anonymity.

A Couple of Things I Noticed

It is so hot in So Cal.

My online friend who I had dinner with last night, lost real life weight.

I write more when I’m out of town. I actually wrote an article and pumped out six pages of novel in less than two days. I wonder how I can transfer that energy for when I return to my boring, humdrum existence in the Tundra.

My daughter is a slob. Her car is a mess. She’s not much of a mechanic either. Oh, and let’s not forget the forgotten traffic tickets.

Futons are for children, not grown adults with bad backs like me.

It’s really far from La Jolla to where I’m staying. I think it was farther because it was 10 p.m.

There’s real life traffic here, not like where I’m from. The failing economy has eliminated our rush hours.

I had the best crab on the planet last night. It came from the Bering Sea.  I should feel guilty because I’m not eating local crab but I don’t.

If you noticed anything I missed, please let me know.

OMG! I’ve been gone for over a month!

I just realized that I hadn’t visited WordPress for awhile, but I was amazed to find out after just logging in today that it’s been over a month!

What the hell?

There’s much news and no time to devote to sharing it. For those of you who wish to follow my escapades, send me a quick note at the end of this entry and I will send you an email with links to what I’ve been doing.

Let’s just say summer  has been busy.

The best thing is that I’ve been writing, usually for an hour or two every day. Yesterday I pumped out four pages of the novel which sprung from the loins of the novel I was working on. Tandem novels! Whee!

My garden is super, all in place. Except for the critters, things are going great. Now if the weather would cooperate. We haven’t had much for a summer this year. It’s mostly been cold, rainy, foggy and gray. Just like San Francisco but without the culture or the sushi.

I’ll try to come back this weekend…

Slash and Burn

Okay, I’ve spent the last three days mulling over the first three chapters of my epic women’s book.

It has to be pared down from 175K words to somewhere around 100K.

The easy part was getting rid of the adverbs. LY words are appearing everywhere I look. They are the obvious sore thumbs.

Chapter 3 bit the dust completely. No one understand dream sequences anyway, and I can reinsert some of them at the appropriate times later on.

At the time I started writing, which was two years and two months ago, I had only a vague idea as to what my message was going to be. I was also into flowery prose and 300 word sentences. (Okay, that might be an exaggeration, but thanks to my friends like LFC, I have learned the finer points of using my words wisely.

I can see my confusion from back then glowing in the dark. This made it somewhat easy to chop, slash and burn away.

Even so, I’ve only reduced the word count by 5K. Of course, I still have 32 more chapters to go, and if I continue on the same path, that means I will have weeded out 40K words. (I’m hoping more than that, but who knows?)

On the flip side, I’ve been neglecting WordPress and it shows. My stats stink. But, consider this, I am on a mission (from God?) and I want to have my rewrite complete to ship off to Rochester by the end of May. I’m sure he is looking forward to the income, and perhaps the entertainment.

The Drunk Man Saga

Our ex-manager no longer works for us. It’s because he ended up in the hospital back in November. We’re still not sure what was wrong with him. He couldn’t breathe, fell down in his filthy apartment, and was lacking oxygen. He spent a week in the hospital, and was released no longer able to work. He won’t tell us what is wrong, but we’re thinking emphysema, among other things.

I am referring to him as the Drunk Man, because he most likely is. Being a heavy drinker is probably what caused his problem. He thought we didn’t know, but we were all well aware of what was going on. He had one of those beet red noses, and made a mad dash for home each day at 5 p.m. to get his fix. Oh, and he was a heavy smoker as well, which came to a screeching halt after the hospital incident. That’s because I hear that oxygen is highly flammable.

Since November, we paid him twice, but when it appeared he was never coming back, we terminated him. Mr. D gave TDM a car, and continues to pay his health insurance, at least until the disability kicks in. He was grossly overpaid anyway. For the amount of money he was making, he should have done more than sleep five hours a day at his desk.

TDM now uses my husband’s “bitch” as his own. This little twerp of a man is 70 years old but can’t retire because his life is in a shambles. So he acts as a go-fer for Mr. D. Now he has become the paid go-fer for TDM.

We learned that Go-Fer has been providing TDM with groceries each week. In those groceries is three liters of vodka. I couldn’t drink three liters of vodka in three years, but I’ve seen TDM drink. I’m thinking the Go-Fer is TDM’s pusher, and I told him so. However, TDM pays well, so he’s not going to offer up his advice.

TDM now lives with his elderly mother, who liquidated her entire life on the West Coast of the state to move here. The mother stayed with us while TDM was in the hospital, and we like her a lot. TDM used to complain about his mother, but it’s true that people usually complain about their own mothers. Mr. D and I no longer have living mothers, and TDM’s mother was very nice.

Since she moved here, we have been trying to have her over for dinner. She refuses to leave TDM alone. I don’t know if she realizes he has a serious drinking problem or not. TDM takes his alcohol into his room, according to Go-Fer.

In the meantime, we promoted a guy (one that I originally hired for the office, above the objections of everyone) from instructor to TDM’s position. I was hoping this would happen. New Manager is personable, knows the office, has been teaching for over a year and I like him. Plus he smells good, which is always handy.

The drama comes in because New Manager really has the least amount of seniority. Of course, when Mr. D initially hired TDM, he had only been working as an instructor for a month. Talk about low man on the totem pole.

There’s a lot of rumblings within the ranks, and New Manager doesn’t like it, because he want everyone to like him. I told him to get a tougher skin. When you’re at the top of the food chain, lots of people aren’t going to like you. In fact, many people don’t like me, and I know it. However, the buck stops here, and that’s why I’m such a hard ass.

Competitive Depression

Hand it to Random Name to give me a smile at least once every couple of weeks. He did it again today.

At the end of this New Permanent First Post of Blog for 2009, he responded to a comment I made, where he coined the term “competitive depression.”

Well, okay, maybe he didn’t say it exactly, but I knew what he meant.

I was comparing my dire circumstances (which aren’t really that dire) to those of our dear David Rochester, who for some reason seems to have the worst luck in the world. At times. Other times, I find Mr. Rochester’s posts to be amusing glimpses into his life. (Honestly, David. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you.)

As many of you might know, I suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). I came by the diagnosis quite late in life. It was only a couple of years ago when I was talking to my doctor about something unrelated that she pointed out all my depressive episodes occurred in winter. There was a light bulb moment and a hastily scrawled prescription. (Nowadays, they just send the script to the pharmacy online. No need for paper or the World MD/English Dictionary to translate messy MD writing.

January was a particularly brutal month for me, as we had only three days of temperatures over 30 degrees (Farenheit, not Celcius), and the sun did little shining. As I look at our sales figures for that month, we were 25% down from the same month last year, which was 23% down from 2007. There were other upsets as well, but there always seems to be more of them at the beginning of the year.

The glory days are over, and I for one am scrambling for a Plan B. Mr. Demonic, I believe, thinks he will die of a heart attack or some other malaise before he’s 60, only because his people have a long history of early demise. When he said it again last weekend, I replied, “Oh, sure. Die and leave me all alone to deal with this mess.” It would be a mess too, not counting the clutter in Mr. D’s office.

I once worked at a federal agency where we were ruled by tyrannical sadists who liked to browbeat their workers. That is a true story. It was the kind of federal agency that was well known for having employees turn on their coworkers and gun them down in fits of rage because of the inequity of it all. As a former government worker, I can tell you that working for the government is no cakewalk.

But I digress… We employees would get together (working) and hash out the latest botched plan of one of the supervisors. Of course, we weren’t supposed to be talking to each other, that was a no-no. I was amazed at how negativity breeds negativity. By the end of our ten hour shift, we were all so beaten down, we headed straight for the bar. Thank God, the bar opened at 7 a.m.

Sure, being drunk by 10 a.m. wasn’t the optimal solution, but it was the only one I had at the time.

Let me say now that I’m not competing with anyone for the prize of Most Depressed. I like to think I’m a good-natured and basically happy cynic. If Rochester wants the coveted prize, he can have it.


Scary Times

Sorry if this post is a downer, but I believe we are heading into scary times.

I don’t know if the culture is out of whack, or just the politicians. I’m fairly certain the politicians are on a destructive course of action. Because they’re all millionaires or better, they’re so out of touch with the Real World, it’s unfathomable. The culture, I’m not so sure. Every now and then, I’ll find pockets of sensibility, but for the most part, I think the world at large is selfish and consuming.

Everyone is throwing money around as if you could grow a field of it and harvest it next September. Of course, no one is throwing money at me, not that I would want that anyway. There’s a certain satisfaction in working hard to reap your rewards, and I’m not afraid of working. I guess you have to have friends in high places in order to get a lucky freebie catch.

I won’t even go into how crazy this is making Mr. Demonic. Even though we are losing a child deduction and expense come May 23rd when said adult person is graduating from college, it’s not going to make life any easier. I believe he’s gotten more gray and wrinkly in the last two months.

I am ashamed and afraid to say this, but I foresee a world where no one except the select few have anything, and those people will have everything. The rest of us will be like cattle or sheep, living off the crumbs of the rich. It won’t just be the value of the dollar shrinking, the value of anything good and right will drop to nothing. This includes creativity and freedom. I already see where the arts in my area are losing funding. No one has the money to donate.

I fear the future world that I have no say so in my own decisions.