Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Thursday, September 9, 2010

OK, diarrhea of the brain tonight...

OK, it's after fucking midnight and I'm still here.
OK, I still have some coffee left. And it's trenta #3 for the day. (Thank you, Starbucks, oh, my pimp of caffeine, my pusher extraordinaire, for creating a larger size of iced coffee. If I ever needed proof of the existence of a benevolent force in the universe, it is the existence of the trenta.)
So why am I sitting here in the office, long after the library has closed, blogging yet again?
Well, my mood is back on the shift.
OK, it's an upswing. That's a good thing. I'm just dreading the downswing. Because there will be one.
I'm not sure quite why my soul is feeling lighter. It might because I've had conversations with three people today who just made me feel better about myself. Compassion and kindness go a loooooong fucking way these days with me.
It could have been the trip to the beach last night. Standing in the surf, breathing, watching the stars, and weeping... yeah, that helps a bit.
Shit, forgot to charge the sodding MP3 player. Half a mo... OK, Zune is connected and recharging. Caught a whiff of my clove cigs, too. I think I need a smoke when I leave. (Yeah, I know, bad Riz--gimme a break here. My stress level is through the sodding roof. Besides, it's better than weed. THAT'S at home. :-) No driving stoned for me.) I love the damn Zune player, but it's like my 'Droid--sometimes, it makes me feel a bit stupid. Well, more than a bit.
Have I mentioned how scary these upswings are? I'm afraid of the high--the feeling that everything is going to be all right. Because it never is.
I know. Don't think that way. Think positive. Believe it's all going to get better and maybe this time it will! I'm supposed to be on my way to Nova Scotia (actually, I'm supposed to be crashing at Ferd & Laura's & getting up at oh-dark-stupid to drive to Halifax) right now; October will come soon enough. And the first weekend of October is NYC and then... then Halifax.
Trying to psych myself up to get through this weekend. Ebay isn't cooperating, the bastards, so getting all that crap up on there ain't happening. Bugger. NEED THAT MONEY, and honestly, just want the shit out of the house because none of the stuff I'm selling clothing-wise fits anymore--with the exception of the pleather slut dress (oh, it's KILLING ME to sell that! KILLING ME! Would rock my socks to be able to send a pic of me in it to FuckWad just to burn his arse, but I know that selling it will burn him even more. And it's never going to fit--it's made for someone a few inches shorter in the torso. STILL SUCKS!) everything is TOO BIG.
Never thought I'd be writing those words: the clothes I'm selling are all too big. *insert huge grin here* I am slowly leaving my Fat Chick days behind. It's really amazing. So a perfect leather jacket, worn once (on the second trip to England and could barely button it) now floats on me; the pink trench coat that I couldn't button when I bought it... floating; the gorgeous velvet-trimmed suit... too big! Business dress with the tags still on it... four sizes too big. YES!!!!!
Shit, I just forgot something. Again. Argh.
Starting to let go of the Discworld memorabilia. Finally. Hopefully, there will be no shitstorm from the ex or his minions. Mind you, I could handle giving someone a good smacking right now. Verbally, at least.
Dreading tomorrow. DREADING tomorrow. Even though I am taking the day off of work. Somehow, sitting down with a team of therapists, doctors and a social worker to discuss Mum just does not appeal to me. I want her out of that blasted nursing home--the place is too depressing for words (and yes, I feel guilty for skipping out on her tonight, but I had intended to be productive. Note, I said "intended").
Hopefully will get to the gym tomorrow. REALLY want to workout. If I don't, I really have to set up the Wii and use the Sports package. Maybe try the boxing bit... or finally play Green Day Rock Band. Still need to get a drum kit.
Shit, just remembered what I forgot... party tomorrow night. Which means will need to pick up tequila. Ahhhhh, tequila... and limes. Mustn't forget the limes.
Yeah, definitely diarrhea of the brain tonight.
Trying to process everything that needs to get done... ebay, ebay, ebay... the 'zine... funky sock monkeys for etsy... the house, Christ, gotta clear at least the kitchen this weekend. *slams head on the desk* Visit Mum (if I'm not bringing her home)... something else had to get done... Sleep. Sleep might be good.
Laundry. Argh. At least four loads, dammit. Ah, well...
FUCK! JUST REMEMBERED! The Banned Books Week Banner! SHIT!
Sod it. Will do it Monday. Along with monthly reports and processing the bills. It's the weekend. It's officially Friday. And I need to get my arse home and into bed.
G'night, interwebs.

No comments:

Post a Comment