I Have To Say...
I am REALLY, profoundly not liking my life right now.
The people I really want to spend time with--male or female--are too busy, have other friends, no time for me. Others have stepped in... and I am totally opening my heart and trying very hard to to accept as freely as I give. But fuck. There's gotta be a balance somewhere and I just don't have it.
I have no money. I'm at a loss... I'm even given up trying for anything because nothing comes of it. The factory sucks. I hate being there. I don't want to be there.
The hustle is too fucking hard. What's the point? I don't think I want an awful lot... in fact, my needs are pretty few and are very simple. So why aren't I getting it?
On top of everything my Poppy is hurting really bad. Day before yesterday, we found out he's got a blockage in his vein in his leg. A calcium deposit most likely. Bigbear said "best case scenario" he'll have an angioplasty, maybe Friday. There is a worst case but I refuse to name it. Yesterday, we took turns sitting with him in the ER, where the Professor took him because she couldn't get him down the stairs and to his catscan appointment. I had to work but I left early to relieve her. When I told my supervisor I had to go, I found myself starting to cry. This rarely happens to me.
I had been avoiding seeing him cuz I can't handle watching him in pain. So once I got there and they figured out that of all the drugs they threw at him (Valium, Vicoden) Percoset worked, I made sure he got them the minute it looked like he hurt again. We waited hours and hours and hours for transport to get him out of the ER to radiology, and then we waited hours more for radiology to get to him. And I almost bolted and ran when he had the actual scan and I heard him cursing in pain.
The Fabulous did a pretty ordinary thing the other night that hurt me pretty deeply... but I had resolved all along that friendship and a partnership was more important than anything else, and I am trying to hold up my end of the bargain. But I think there must be something wrong with my concept of friendship. Cuz other people don't seem to share the concept. I'm not a perfect person but I try. I try to take the high road. He still hasn't really redeemed himself to me yet and it's making me wonder about everything else.
Maybe I'll just go numb again.
On the one hand I have met and hung out with some interesting people recently, and in fact came into contact today with someone with whom our lives are a series of missed connections. But I just don't give a shit.
I hate dating... the thought of going out with a series of assholes seems like such a waste of time. There are friends who aren't assholes, of course. But I don't know. I'm just not feeling any of it.
I had a night on Saturday that was supposed to go one way, but ended up going a completely other way. It turned out I probably had more fun the way it went, and I came into contact with more high school people. It was a fabulous party, in all honesty.
But I was trying to stay away from the tequila, and instead drank margaritas. But they were awful, and the tequila was horrible and I was unbelievably sick the next day. That was after falling asleep on the train on the way home (luckily I wasn't alone) and ended up on Bedford Park Blvd in the Bronx, on the D-Train. We still can't figure out how that happened. I got home at 6 in the morning. I was supposed to take the Sun to a concert at Lincoln Center but was completely incapacitated.
I hate drinking. I think I'm going to quit.
Although maybe not.
I've been trying to fill up my sketchbook on a more regular basis, but really I don't think I have it anymore.
On the other hand, I'm working on an icon for an iPhone app, and the person I'm doing it for seemed to like it. A lot. I was so happy I almost cried.
I've been trying to write, am thinking that finally maybe I could submit things professionally which of course has led to the biggest case of Block I've ever had. The voices are fucking me up on purpose.
And I finally figured out how I feel about the Rhianna/Chris Brown thing, but truthfully, nobody gives a fuck. I find it highly distressing that while the debate has gone strong over on Crackbook, I'm the only asshole pissing in the wind. Several people, of whom I know for a fact have had similar experiences, have refused to "come out". And it's for this very reason that this bullshit continues. Women are embarrassed to admit how they got caught up. When how they got caught is irrelevant, and all that matters is giving them the courage and the unconditional support needed to get out.
I still may write about it cuz that's the kind of bitch I am. Confrontational. Which is ironic because I really don't like being that way. I really want a quiet life somewhere.
But that's never going to happen.
The people I really want to spend time with--male or female--are too busy, have other friends, no time for me. Others have stepped in... and I am totally opening my heart and trying very hard to to accept as freely as I give. But fuck. There's gotta be a balance somewhere and I just don't have it.
I have no money. I'm at a loss... I'm even given up trying for anything because nothing comes of it. The factory sucks. I hate being there. I don't want to be there.
The hustle is too fucking hard. What's the point? I don't think I want an awful lot... in fact, my needs are pretty few and are very simple. So why aren't I getting it?
On top of everything my Poppy is hurting really bad. Day before yesterday, we found out he's got a blockage in his vein in his leg. A calcium deposit most likely. Bigbear said "best case scenario" he'll have an angioplasty, maybe Friday. There is a worst case but I refuse to name it. Yesterday, we took turns sitting with him in the ER, where the Professor took him because she couldn't get him down the stairs and to his catscan appointment. I had to work but I left early to relieve her. When I told my supervisor I had to go, I found myself starting to cry. This rarely happens to me.
I had been avoiding seeing him cuz I can't handle watching him in pain. So once I got there and they figured out that of all the drugs they threw at him (Valium, Vicoden) Percoset worked, I made sure he got them the minute it looked like he hurt again. We waited hours and hours and hours for transport to get him out of the ER to radiology, and then we waited hours more for radiology to get to him. And I almost bolted and ran when he had the actual scan and I heard him cursing in pain.
The Fabulous did a pretty ordinary thing the other night that hurt me pretty deeply... but I had resolved all along that friendship and a partnership was more important than anything else, and I am trying to hold up my end of the bargain. But I think there must be something wrong with my concept of friendship. Cuz other people don't seem to share the concept. I'm not a perfect person but I try. I try to take the high road. He still hasn't really redeemed himself to me yet and it's making me wonder about everything else.
Maybe I'll just go numb again.
On the one hand I have met and hung out with some interesting people recently, and in fact came into contact today with someone with whom our lives are a series of missed connections. But I just don't give a shit.
I hate dating... the thought of going out with a series of assholes seems like such a waste of time. There are friends who aren't assholes, of course. But I don't know. I'm just not feeling any of it.
I had a night on Saturday that was supposed to go one way, but ended up going a completely other way. It turned out I probably had more fun the way it went, and I came into contact with more high school people. It was a fabulous party, in all honesty.
But I was trying to stay away from the tequila, and instead drank margaritas. But they were awful, and the tequila was horrible and I was unbelievably sick the next day. That was after falling asleep on the train on the way home (luckily I wasn't alone) and ended up on Bedford Park Blvd in the Bronx, on the D-Train. We still can't figure out how that happened. I got home at 6 in the morning. I was supposed to take the Sun to a concert at Lincoln Center but was completely incapacitated.
I hate drinking. I think I'm going to quit.
Although maybe not.
I've been trying to fill up my sketchbook on a more regular basis, but really I don't think I have it anymore.
On the other hand, I'm working on an icon for an iPhone app, and the person I'm doing it for seemed to like it. A lot. I was so happy I almost cried.
I've been trying to write, am thinking that finally maybe I could submit things professionally which of course has led to the biggest case of Block I've ever had. The voices are fucking me up on purpose.
And I finally figured out how I feel about the Rhianna/Chris Brown thing, but truthfully, nobody gives a fuck. I find it highly distressing that while the debate has gone strong over on Crackbook, I'm the only asshole pissing in the wind. Several people, of whom I know for a fact have had similar experiences, have refused to "come out". And it's for this very reason that this bullshit continues. Women are embarrassed to admit how they got caught up. When how they got caught is irrelevant, and all that matters is giving them the courage and the unconditional support needed to get out.
I still may write about it cuz that's the kind of bitch I am. Confrontational. Which is ironic because I really don't like being that way. I really want a quiet life somewhere.
But that's never going to happen.
Comments
In all my years of riding the train home...I never fell asleep, even when drunk...but I did pee on myself but thank gawd I was the only one on the train...it's a long ass ride from Time Square to 149th St. Just sayin'!