Grumbles

This is so fun. I sometimes think I have too much fun, and later on, when I'm old, the weight of all my fun will come crashing down on my weak bones. For all the pain and responsibility that I see other adults having to deal with, I've only ever dealt with a fraction of that. Everyone's so grumbles about their stressful lives. Sometimes I think that mine is, too, and I get grumbles. But then I have a night like last night, paired with a morning like this morning, and I have no grumble excuses.

This morning, it took everything in me to get out of bed. I didn't have to get out of bed, actually, but my teeth felt nasty and I wanted coffee really bad. My bed was so warm. So, so warm and cozy and smushy, and my brain was swollen from last night (and was at critical mass). I had this perfect pillow formation set up to where I was laying on one, and the other cold, lumpy pillow (affectionately dubbed "the Jank") was on top of my head, chilling it.

But stomach acidity and toothbrushes pulled me out. Chuggin' water and cooking eggs kept me out. Now, I've got 2 fried eggs, sauteed & curried garlic spinach, chard, and bell peppers with couscous in my tummy, and I kinda want to go back to bed.

The moral of the story, and the point of writing this, is that I CAN JUST GO BACK TO BED IF I WANT TO. I have too much fun.

On the Lam

When things surround me and don't let me breathe, usually I simply ignore it until it's no longer a problem, or if the things are tasks, I do them and move on. If they are bills, I pay them and cross them off a list.

I may be a lot of things, but something I'm not is easily affected by things that don't matter. That's why these past three weeks have been exhausting, surprising, and awful. Not the entire time, but you know how negativity bloats up and fills your days with thoughts concerning it, no matter what other fun things and happy people are around to distract you?

That's probably a given, but I haven't truly felt this way since I was a mopey teenager. I'm new to this. I'm pretty much sold that it's not a valid way to be, and I simply cannot get anything done when I'm not happy.

Since I don't want to directly speak of the subject matter, I will now list all the things that didn't go wrong in the last three weeks:

It wasn't sadness; no one died. My friends didn't desert me. I didn't default on my student loans, entergy has not cut off my power. My sandals didn't break in New Orleans. I didn't throw punches, though I almost wanted to. I've not gone a day without everything I need. No one caught me stealing their internet. My family didn't fall apart, I did not get into a car accident, no one overdosed. I'm not in jail, and none of my friends are either.

Those are the real things that could go wrong, not just in the last few weeks, but every day. What went wrong wasn't real, and on the way home from New Orleans this weekend, the fog around me finally dissipated. That was a terrible three-week vacation, and a real physical vacation to New Orleans fixed it.

I'm back to being impermeable. Score!

The Art of Burning Bridges

Hello, November. It's been a long year. I'm ready to throw it all back, get naked and climb under the covers for a nice, long binge sleep. Pretend that a good 60% of this never happened. Wouldn't mind dabbing a little concealer on the things I've seen, said and done in the past 3 months.

There is something eating at me, and I need to drive a stake through it before I change into someone I'm not; before everyone notices. I have bigger goals for myself than a single feeling, or a temporary reprieve from loneliness.

I'm better than this.