Going insane - random ranting

So here it is a couple of weeks until Christmas, and I'm wondering how I'm going to survive the holidays, and this time the kids are off for SIXTEEN days. That's 5 more than for Thanksgiving, and I thought my head was going to explode from that. At least I'm taking off 11 of those days, and we can go running around to parks and museums. Also, my In-Laws from Colorado will be in town, and the cousins can all get together and play.

I have kind of accepted the backstabbing from my company. I don't like it, and I'm still crying, but I know what it is, and I need to move on. Found out that at least 200 more people I work with will be off the payroll (corporate speak for laid off) as of mid February. I can't imagine how people are going to survive in this economy, with few job prospects. I don't know how I am going to survive.

Got a call this week from a dear old friend who was recently diagnosed as depressed, and is now on medication. I could tell she needed it the last time we talked and she was not herself. She was bitter, and angry, and negative. It was odd because she has always been very upbeat and positive and vibrant. I'm glad she's getting help, and even more glad that she is feeling like herself these days.

This week Bettie Page died. That made me sad for no apparent reason. I didn't know her personally, but what she did in the face of such opposition opened the door to many of the people who are famous for taking off their clothes (Pam Anderson, my twin being one of those).

Here's Bettie during her heyday:

And my "twin":

I think there is something that draws me to the fringe aspect of fame, bordering on sex workers. I wrote a biography in 5th grade about Sally Stanford. I'm sure Mrs. Willis was started to get that one! I had a poster of Farrah Fawcett in my room at about the same age, and I still have my Mae West poster from college. It used to belong to an aunt. I always thought that being a madam was glamorous, but the reality of sex work is so different from the stylized way it is portrayed in literature and film. I have never been a sex worker, and I feel fortunate to have been able to find jobs that do not rely on my looks or selling my body. I don't know if I have a strong enough self image or psyche for such work. I admire those who have survived, with nothing more than interesting stories, and feel horrible for those who haven't.