citysky's Blog

OK I know I'm not really blogging on here anymore but I just have to unload on the whole public restroom thing in this building. You know I get really pissed with clients sticking their head under the door asking me for their checks. I've ruminated on ways to fool them by changing my shoes, etc. But that's just part of the problem.

The restrooms in this building are filthy. People peeing on the floor. The grout is literally black and there are open sewers on each floor that run through the depth of the building - one connecting to another. The smell is - uh - strong. Unflushed tampons and diapers clogging things up. Somebody's weave stuck to the wet sink. Gross.

So obviously I'm not sitting my butt down on the seat. This means I have to hover over the toilet and with a good 1 - 1.5 inch gap between the stall door and the wall anyone going by can get a good view of me crouching there. It gets even more complicated when I'm trying to keep my badge from strangling me and my pants out of the wet muck on the floor. I used to try and get the last stall to avoid all the traffic going by. Ever since I came upon the day- porter having sex in there though I've avoided that one and just hope for one towards the back. 

But what's got me going are those wafer thin tissue paper seat protectors. Seriously. What exactly is that thing going to protect me from? Do you really think that transparent little barrier is going to ward off the germs coming from a crack ho's butt? I get heavier grade tissue paper packed around my underwear purchase from Victoria's Secret! About the only thing putting one of those down on the seat is going to do is tell you where the puddles of pee are.

So when those fussy little women come in and I hear them spending ten minutes spreading their little blanket out just so I laugh. I wouldn't put my butt on that seat even if it had been purified with holy water right in front of me. The only thing those tissue paper seat protectors are good for is drying your hands when the dryers are broke and there are no paper towels. Even then it takes a good twenty of them wadded up into a ball to be effective.

I'm going to have to start scoping out construction sites on the way into work. At least in a porta-potty I'd have some privacy.

I'm hiding once again.

Right here. Kind of coming in the back door. I suppose if I really wanted this private I'd just hit "personal" or "hide" or whatever shit button is on here.

Do you detect some anger in my voice? You'd be right. I'm pretty sick and disgusted by things the past month. I figure leaving here as I've done once before would be the cure all. I could stop writing and hanging out on the web and face my demons at home. Take all my time and creativity and work on myself. Fix what's so busted up in me.

Didn't work.

I've cried so much the past month that my nose hurts. I walk around with it red and sore. People ask me if I have allergies. It's so much more polite to say yes instead of telling them you've been sobbing. Can you imagine the look of horror on their face? The hasty retreat out the elevator before the door slides shut trapping them in there with an emotional, angry woman.

I am that angry woman. Property damage like an angry woman. You know that song?

S1 got layed off today. Thought we dodged the bullet. Economy looking up and all that bullshit on CNN. Not in this neck of the woods apparently. Not here.

My life is most definitely not looking up. Hell I can barely see straight ahead.

I can't hide behind citysky anymore.

When did this place become more important than my life? When my life became untenable.

In the past I would have said "citysky needs to address her problems." See the distance? I can't do that anymore.

I need to address my depression. I need to address my addictions. I need to address my life.

Yesterday a co-worker jokingly asked me how I "put up with them all". I told him I did a lot of drugs. We laughed together but what I wanted was for him to look into my eyes and see all the pain and help me.

I have wasted more than 2/3 of my life hiding behind my son's abduction and my abusive childhood. I have wasted my life being drunk or high or just passed out on the floor. I have wasted my life and there is no way to get that time back.

I have been running and running and running and now I'm out of breath. I'm tired. And I'm sad. And I know this is going to hurt but I don't have a choice anymore.

I have to be honest now. I have to get help. I can't be citysky anymore. I have to face what made me who I am and then put it behind me. I have lied and cheated and medicated long enough. It's only when I admit my problems, my "dirty deeds" that I can perhaps somewhere find acceptance and the help to become a better, more authentic me.

I have left two stories on my profile. I think these two are the most important ones I've written. They explain who I am right now. One day I hope to come back and write a new story. About who I've become. A better, more sane, me.

God I love you all. For the past two and a half years you are the only ones who've heard my voice yelling into the darkness. You have meant the world to me.