Fuckitol.

Saturday was one of the worst days I've had in a long time. After months of inspiration, weeks of preparation and days of frustration, I got my shit together to rent a booth to sell my jewelry. I picked Market Days in my hometown of Bay Shitty, because even though I hate the place, my grandparents are well-known in the community. Hell, I'm well-known in the community. Everywhere I go in that town I run into someone who went to school with my mom or an uncle, or folks from Granny's church or other churches I've attended.

George and I arrived at my grandparents' house around 6pm Friday evening. Had a yummy dinner of roast and potatoes and green beans. I decided that I needed to get up around 5:30am to get down to set up my booth around 7. I laid in bed a few hours, but was never able to sleep. My usual falling asleep time is 4-5:30 am anyhow because I have a wonky circadian rhythm. My insomnia is worse on days when I know I have to be up at a certain time, and when rest is important. I was wide awake when the alarm went off. After setting up the table at the courthouse square, I realized it was way too small, but there was nothing to be done at that time, so I made do with what I had.

Through out the day, a multitude of people I recognized walked right passed my booth, avoiding eye contact with me. Some people came up to talk to my grandmother for 10-15 minutes, blocking my booth, and then left without even dropping me a fiver. These are the more affluent people of the area I'm talking about, the richest people I know. Then there were others who paused at my booth, said hi to me and said, "Oh, this is cute...blah blah.", and walked on.  Only two people I knew bought things from me. One was a friend of my mother's I haven't seen in 25 years at least, and the other was my aunt who complained that I had the 'good rocks' and not enough stuff that was 'cheap like <her>'.  Granted, most of the stuff I brought was mid-range precious stones, but I had plenty of stuff that was $5-$10.  I got compliment after compliment on how beautiful my work is, but no one was buying.

I was filled with animosity towards those people, who couldn't even be bothered to drop $10 at my table, despite their connection to me or my grandparents. I guess they owe my grandparents too much money, to throw some cash at me. I spent all this time and effort, drove something like 320 total miles, smiled sweetly, made small talk (something that I'm terrible at) and didn't even make enough money to buy groceries or supplements. Fuck those people. Fuck them all. I hated them when I lived in Bay City, and I hate them even more now.

What made matters worse, was that after we were packed up and stopped at my grandpa's office to go to the bathroom, I had to deal with his ignorance.  He told me that George had said the experience had been 'disappointing'. I told him I was disgusted, and told him about all the people I knew who couldn't even be bothered to say hi, let alone drop a couple of dollars my way. He asked me what I thought I could've done differently. I said I was brilliant, but people just weren't willing to buy. He responded by telling me they must've been unimpressed. Maybe I shouldn't say this about the old man...but FUCK HIM, TOO.

Later, back at their house, a conversation about my uncle taking his boys hunting turned into my grandmother dropping another racial slur that I will not even repeat here. This conversation also brought on an unsolicited lesson in guns and ammo.

Let me prefice the following with a little bit of side story. I HATE GUNS. I once had a guy in my apartment showing off one of his pistols that he was trying to sell to a friend.  I had been taught prior to this incident how to respect a firearm (always check to make sure it's unloaded, never aim at anyone, make sure the safety is on...and so forth). I checked out the gun myself. This guy later shot and killed his parents with this gun. He was on America's Most Wanted, but he was stupid and actually was caught prior to the airing of the show. So, yeah, I FUCKING HATE GUNS.

Well, my grandpa siezed the opportunity to bring out about 5 different kinds of bullets, and explained the difference in sizes and amount of destruction upon impact and what kind of trajectory they'd get etc. I sat through at least half an hour of that. Oh, but he wasn't finished there. After this he brought out his 4 pistols. Lemme rephrase this. He showed off his 4 FULLY LOADED pistols. Even after expressing my distress (ie. I'm not comfortable with this...Accidents happen...) he pressed on with his demonstration. So, now I know that my grandparents have 4 loaded pistols, and 2 loaded rifles at their house (before I was only aware of the one pistol). I don't have to worry. If someone breaks in, or if there's a zombie apocalypse, my grandparents are prepared. However, they can count on me not visiting for a very long time, if ever again.
Granny is welcome to come visit me, but really I have no use for my grandpa anymore, not that I really have since I was a little kid.

Anyhow, so I've got about 65-70 bucks to get to Dec. 3rd. I have two gluten-free pizza crusts, and a bag of gluten-free pasta and after that I don't know what I'm doing for food. I'm also out of Magnesium and CoQ10, and low on a couple of other supplements that along with eating gluten-free keep me at about a 60-70% functioning person instead of a more like 40% functioner. 

I was really hoping to make enough money to start saving some for a trip to Georgia. I haven't seen my parents and brother since my wedding day (4-25-09) and I've only seen my sister once for about a day since then. I haven't seen my friends in Georgia for years. This is really taking a toll on my sanity, because it's extremely painful not to see them, and I have no idea when I will see them again. How can I ever afford to make a trip when I'm still trying to live on $699 a month?

I'm going to end here, because I've got shit to do...but I'm not really finished. This is only part of what is bothering me at present.