I always knew I'd someday hear the phrase, "wow, only $2.07 for gas!"
Just not this early in my life.

Have I mentioned lately that I've not been sleeping much?
Nope, for almost 3 weeks now I've been completely dead all day, and I try to sleep at night and I just cant. Even with sleeping pills I wake up often, more groggy than without.
It's about 5:30 and I've been laying in bed for about 2 hours trying with all my might to sleep... maybe I'm trying too hard.
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Getting to work after yesterday morning was easy... getting out of work was not so easy.
The closed the road I work on, which was fine because I rarely go home after work on Wednesdays... but I did need an alternate route to get to Wheeling.
East River road north was a breeze. Central Road east would have been a breeze if the cops didn't let about 500 people leave the forest preserve before me... seriously, why were so many people in a forest preserve at 5PM on a Wednesday?
Then I took the shortcut to Milwaukee Avenue known only as Dearlove Street. This was my mistake. It seemed that everybody who's ever been to the northern suburbs of Chicago was on this street at 5:10 Wednesday. I sat there for 20 minutes, literally, just sat there, there was no where to go. Even turning around wasn't an option, because the traffic in the other direction wasn't going anywhere either. I didn't get off this 1/2 mile stretch of road for another 20 minutes.
Of course, by this time, I knew that Milwaukee would be crowded. Lilttle did I know that it was closed too. I went this way because I said, "Hey Big Rob, what's the best way to get across the river from here?" He said to take Willow/Palatine road, this was the quickest way to that road... of course it crossed the river at one point.
Saunders road was the detour for Milwaukee. Let me tell you about Saunders road... I was there by 6 o'clock, I didn't get off of Saunders until about 7.... and there is NOTHING on Saunders Road. So... let's say you're forced onto the road along with a million other drivers, and suddenly nature calls. Sure, you can ignore that for a while... but eventually, you gotta take care of it. There's no trees to hide behind, no random outhouse to help out folks in such a predicament. And it came to the point where I was all too close to wetting myself.
I thanked myself that I had eaten lunch in my car earlier... the Pepsi can was still in the cup holder. And I did what I thought I had to do... sure, some of you might be saying ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. I know I did.
But this doesn't end quite so easily, see... I got myself, well, into position, and then... nothing. I thought my bladder was going to explode, but nothing would come out. I tried to get into a better relaxed position, and... nothing. This was both good and bad.
Finally, I could see the next streetlight, which had a gas station.
I think my bladder grew about 7 times it's previous size.
From there to my destination took only about 5 minutes, which was odd only because I had to cross the flooded Des Plaines River to get there. But hey, there was no traffic on Milwaukee, because behind me I would swear there were people water-skiing on the street.

With any luck, I won't have to work tomorrow. Nah, who am I kidding, of course I will... it will just be very difficult to get there.
The rumor mill going around was that Wisconsin opened up the flood gates. I didn't even know that they had any. Several rivers here on the verge of overflowing, or "cresting" as the news calls it. I didn't know toothpaste could be a verb.
One of these rivers is about 100 feet from the building I work. The mighty Des Plaines River (unlike those silly folks in Iowa, we pronounce the s's) currently spills out about 5 feet onto Golf Road, which is pretty much the only useful road for me to take to work, since I live right off it, and work is on it. When this flood water arrives, the road should be a few feet underwater.
I've considered trying to hydroplane to work tomorrow.... but that would give Suicide Circle too literal a meaning.
At least it's not supposed to rain until Thursday... although it wasn't supposed to rain as often as it did over the last week, so it just might rain out of spite. I'm sitting outside as I write this, and there is certainly that feeling of a drizzle coming.
We figure that no matter what, the building will be open tomorrow... if it floods, they'll just have the maintenance crew on the bottom floor with SCUBA gear and a mop.

Wish me luck tomorrow... for now I'm off to buy some flippers and a snorkle.

Well, I'm about to lose my job. Only a year and a half and it's being yanked away from me. Well, it's not THAT bad, it's really a big fat promotion. Project Manager... whatever that means. It doesn't involve managing people, but it's highly stressful, so I'm sure that if I have a rough time I can beg for an assistant or something.
I'll be working for the woman my ex used to call "the evil bitch goddess." So far, I've yet to see that side of her. The woman currently in the position is giving it up because it's just way too stressful. She told me, "just agree with everything Mona says." I told her that there was no way I could even if I wanted to, sure she'll prove me wrong all the time, but sometimes some things just sound wrong until it gets drilled into your head.

I knew I wanted the job, and I knew it was going to be offered to me. But I was leery about the extra money involved. My company is a bit cheap when it comes to cash... sure the benefits are fan-freakin'-tastic, but right now I need cash to buy a house.
So I had it all worked out....
I fully expected them to give me a 3% raise.
I wouldn't accept the job without 5%.
I'd hoped for 15%
And someone like me deserves about a 1,000,000% raise. Hey, I'm good, what can I say?
When Mona said it was 12.3%, I became quite giddy. It ends up being much more than I expected, but no where near what I wish I was making.

Technically I started Monday... I didn't find that out until Tuesday. And no one else in the department knows yet, so I can't really even do the job yet. And what really sucks is working a million hours of overtime in my old job, this year the marketing department didn't screw us, the printer kind of did.... oh well, finish it up and get on with my life. Even if I don't get paid overtime anymore....

You know, back when I took the job in Advertising, it was because someone got promoted in my prior department who, in no way, deserved it.
When I told my boss I was going for this job, he had a look like he was thinking, "yeah, that's why you didn't get the promotion."
I ran into him at the City of Hope charity bowling last night. I mentioned my new position, and his only comment was, "see if you stick around long enough you'll go places."
Did he even realize that it was leaving that helped me get places? Probably not.

So anyway, I can't wait to start, I am so sick of proofreading. I figured I'd last 5 years doing that, but as soon as the mere notion of this job came up, I never wanted to look at another proof copy.
I'm all set to start designing order forms and creating spreadsheets, databases, documentation, and all kinds of stuff.... this is the stuff I love doing, and they won't let me do it yet!!!!

"Do you think it will help?"
I shrugged and said I didn't know.
"Well, when you're ready you'll know. Just make sure you're doing it for yourself, not for her."
That was the hard part... knowing it was for me.
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For a while new I've been telling this guy everything about me when I should be eating lunch. I don't like it. He says things like, "do you think that will help?" and "what do you think?" a lot. He the one getting paid to think!!
Anyways, despite the fact that I don't like the whole idea of this, I keep going. And I tell him all about my past. Things I didn't even know I remembered. He's said I talk a lot for someone that doesn't want to be there... but, I admit, I have a lot to tell.

I talk about the friends I had as a kid, before we moved two blocks away and I all but lost contact with them.
Across the street from me was Christina. Her father was a truck driver who was shot and killed while sleeping in his truck. She was a year older than me, and had claws for fingernails, as I learned anytime she was mad.
On her right side was Wayne. The family german shepherd was kept in a small cage outside. I really pissed off his father once by shooting him with a squirt gun, I wasn't allowed to have another squirt gun, EVER. When I moved out I bought a lot of them. Wayne's family moved away before my family did.
To the other side of Christina lived Matt. Recently, I was told he was an albino, I never gave it much thought before. He was the kid that made me feel really tough. I could just barely push him, and he'd go running home to his mother, who was a Jehovah's Witness. His older brother started going through the procedures to get a sex change, but died from a heart attack before he turned 30. Last I heard, Matt left a trail of children from Chicago to Miami.
Next to him was Kenny, who was nice enough to saw his parents couch in two... and blame me. We weren't allowed to be friends after that, and it was years before I knew what really happened. I cried for a long time when his father yelled at me. My parents never made any kind of attempt to remedy the situation.
And next to me was Kathy. If anyone ever told me that she would never move out from her house, and by the time she was 30 she have three children to three different men, all of whom she'd end up marrying, and the guy would always move into her parents house just to be kicked out within a year... well, I would have believed it. Kathy tried to be my "first." Hell, she tried to be everyone's first. A few times she almost succeeded with me, thankfully someone always came home and that was the end of that.

If anyone ever told me that I would be standing in front of her parents house begging for information about my past when I was 35... I never would have believed that. And this was what psychiatrist meant by, "do you think it will help?"
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"Hi Rich!" Her mother was always excited to see me. Back when we were kids, there were always stories about how me and Kathy were going to get married. I think Kathy's mother really believed them.
"Is Kathy home?" That was what I always said when I'd go over there to get her to come outside and play... it felt weird saying it now, but I didn't know what else to say.
I saw a silhouette of someone run out of the kitchen and into the hallway where the bedrooms are. No pants, I'd say it seemed odd Kathy would have no pants on, but I think during high school that became the norm for her.
"Come in, come in."
It was like going through a time machine. Our house was the same as theirs when I'd lived next door, they had a basement, though, we didn't. That old horrible organ was still there, I think every neighborhood had to have at least one back in the 70s.
I looked around, and I knew I did NOT want to be there.
If I didn't know where I was, I never would have recognized Kathy when she came out. White trash screamed from every part of her body... but she didn't really look all that bad.
She didn't seem very happy to see me. I hadn't seen her in 15+ years, and couldn't think of anything in particular that she would hold a grudge over for that long... I wondered if she believed those old stories too.
"Hi Rich."
"Hi." Shake her hand? Hug her? Stand there like a twit... yeah that one works.
We exchanged "pleasantries" for a bit before she asked, "why are you here?"
"Well... I was hoping you could do me a favor."
"Depends."
We were in the kitchen now, I don't know where her kids were, she was wearing a wedding ring, maybe the husband was out with the kids.
"I'd like to see your fifth grade class picture." I'd like to point out that my heart was racing, I choked on almost every word in that sentence, and my voice cracked like a pre-pubescent teen.
This, I could see, was not what she expected.
Confused, she asked, "why?"
Did I dare say, "because I'm completely insane and have memories about someone who may or may not exist, but my earliest memory of her was in your fifth grade class?"
No, of course not.
I have a difficult time looking people in the eye. My gaze was fixed on the kitchen table, but I couldn't tell you what it looked like now.
"Do you remember Jodi Anderson?" I not only felt like I was going to, but I wanted to pass out.
The pressure in my head was more intense than I'd ever felt. My heart was beating a million times a second.
I don't know how long she took to think over my question. It felt like the entire human race could have been wiped out and rebuilt in that time.
"Is she the one that died?"
fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
The pressure stopped, my heart became less painful. This, somehow, relaxed me.
"Huh?" was all I could say.
"Yeah, I think she had leukemia."
I stand by my statement, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck

According to Kathy, Jodi was in her 4th grade class, not fifth grade. She doesn't think Jodi ever made it to a class in fifth grade. She'd heard from Sue, a who lived across the street from Jodi, that Jodi had died.
I was confused to say the least. I had hoped Kathy would have an entirely different story to tell, but I fully expected her to say Jodi never existed. Though much calmer than I'd been moments before, this completely threw me.

Kathy's father found the class pictures a few days later and I went back. And there she was. I fought back tears, I don't know if they were for Jodi or for me.

-----

That was a few weeks ago.
Within two sessions with the psychiatrist I had another tiny piece of the puzzle which is my brain, this one came with came with many more questions. Here is what I've learned:

When we first moved to this house, I didn't have many friends in the area. Most of the kids were much younger than me. It was only a 10-20 minute walk to all my old friends, but I didn't see them very often, anymore.
Next door to me lived a brother and sister, Julie and Donald. If Julie wasn't 4 years younger than me, I'd have been all over her like a cheap suit.
About a year later, another brother and sister moved in across the street. Julie and Mike. Mike was much older than us, and we used to play smear the queer with him, and he'd always win. Mike is the one that got me into comic books and games. And I definitely had a crush on his sister Julie, who was my age.

After Jodi died (I'm speaking from my faltered memory here), and I decided to try writing, I worked my memories into stories a lot. I changed Jodi's name to Julie because I didn't want to use her real name since I wouldn't be using mine. I had thought I'd just picked Julie out of a random thought.
There was a time, roughly when I was 20-21, when I was writing something and using this as a part of the story... and I thought I was going crazy, because suddenly I could remember everything I remembered about Jodi's death, instead of Jodi, my memories had someone else's face and her name was Julie.
I was with Debbie at the time, and I used her to help me forget about these troubles.
One day I was watching a solar eclipse from a hill near this house I live in now, and a burst of wind caught me square in the face, it smelled like banana lip gloss and a perfume who's name I can't remember. This, I felt assured, fixed my memory, and everything was back to normal.
Every once in a while I think about that time when I was confused. I hadn't thought about it since those months ago when I was called just about every name for "liar" that exists.

I have been thinking about the Julie my age. I think she is the one I am really looking for right now. Jodi had a brother named Mike that I had really thought would have been the one that killed her, this Julie has a brother named Mike, who I don't think would have hurt a fly. The families I remember are completely opposite from old and new memories.... in fact so much is completely opposite from the two worlds I am living in, I feel confident that this Julie is the one I need to find for more answers... my mind is screwed up enough.

I've avoided putting full names on here recently. But I've been unable to find information on this person, so with any luck someone will type her name in Google and say, "oh, I know her" after reading this. So...

If anyone knows a Julie Rankin or Mike Rankin that lived in Schaumburg, Illinois between 1979 and 1982, please contact me either in the comments here, or at the email address a the top of this page. Thank you.


I've learned a lot about myself, my family, and my past these past several months.......
Now I truly understand why my sister was in therapy for 10 years.