Tonight was what I imagine my life "should" be.
I cleaned, photographed, researched, and listed things to sell on Etsy.
I walked the dog.
Then I went to the bar and was socially awkward among the socially awkward for several hours of healthy human contact, food I didn't cook, and and alcohol I only occasionally had to pay for. I hung out with girls and non-prospective boys and watched people play bags and tried to learn to play bags for real instead of having to giggle and flirt to hide my embarassment.

Birdie came to visit Friday night and got to see all the wonderfulness that is my bar. Neighbor Guy was completely shit-faced and thought Birdie was the hottest woman he'd seen in his entire life and could say little more thant "You are so hot!" He's still convinced she's "mixed" (racially) and would gladly go straight for her. Then tonight Neighbor Guy is following around this "straight" guy I don't particularly like as a person. I escaped the bar a bit earlier than necessary because I got sick of the two of them.

I hope the grocery store is open tomorrow.
Is it supposed to rain? My feet itch.

What I learned from the LOST finale

Black people don't go to heaven. Even if they marry white people.

Morning Downs and Ups

The president of my condo board is a complete dick, as proven by this morning's round of emails. There's a lot of hot-headed self-centered bullshit in this building, and having grown up in a nest of hot-headed self-centered bullshit (frequently wrapped up in it myself) I now like to play peace ambassador whenever possible. But in Condoland, I know so little about the process and the rules and everything, I don't stand a conscilliatory chance.

Reading nasty emails full of personal attacks was ruining my morning when my brother called.
At 10 AM he was drunk.
It was the last day of finals. He was at a bar.
Ah, college. Memories. The bar staying open all night right up until graduation the next morning
My brother's call drastically improved my mood.

HDS coming to live with me is such a godsend. I need help right now and an HDS roommate friend is perfect. I hope i can be at least a little good for her, too.

Hard-Headed

Yesterday was a really bad day with lots of awake pain.
Today is worse. I try to unravel the pain like it's a tight, rigid riddle--release this muscle, swallow this pill, concentrate on this simple activity. Minutes are hours as I sit and breathe and dance across the surface of this hard hurt inside me.

State of the Onion

Thursday was my birthday. I'm 28. The last several years I've been having trouble remembering how old I am; each birthday I'm not sure if it's that birthday or the next one. This year, I know I'm 28. It means very little, but it's comforting.

I'm still feeling like crap a lot. Still having good days, too. Good parts of days, bad parts of days. For awhile I was working and sleeping like a normal person, up and down with the sun and churning out fairly regular accomplishments without much regulation. Then it thunderstormed and I slept 15 hours and haven't gotten back on track since.

Today hurts like it should rain again. I didn't expect to spend much time with my friends on my Thursday of a birthday, but another weekend alone in the dark and quiet sucks. I feel so out of touch, seeing the people I'm closest to feels like dropping in on the lives of vague acquaintances.

Well fuck now I'm sulky teary. Maybe letting it rain from my eyeballs will relieve some of the pressure I can't control in the greater atmosphere.

Dear Boy, I don't want this much power; it's not attractive.

One Pille, Two Pill, Orange Pill, Blue Pill

I messed up my pills this morning. Really weird. I have dreams where I just keep putting pills in my mouth without realizing it until I notice my mouthful of pills and spit everything out and worry about what I've already swallowed and what I still need to swallow. This morning, reality felt closer to that than it ever has before.
I went to take my pills as always. I start on the big capsules and then take the little ones, so I grabbed my norotriptyline and downed my most recent dose: two. I went for the next vial and realized I'd  just taken my norotriptyline. That's a night-time only drug. Fuck. Not worth making myself puke (I've never done this in a finger-down-the-throat way, only by mentally allowing my body to let go when it was already nauseous, and I wasn't nauseous, and I didn't want to change that). Fine. It's not going to kill me, I'm just taking it 12 hours early. Now where's the Prozac I was reaching for in the first place?
And having just taken two norotriptyline, I took two Prozac. Not on purpose. I wasn't consciously aware of my mistake for a solid minute, then, boom. I'd taken two because I was compensating for the two wrong pills with two right pills. Prozac fucks me up. I wondered if I was asleep, dreaming this. When my teeth fall out I know I'm asleep. Elementary school reunion is a dream, too. No, this time I was awake, but not for long. I was extremely careful with the rest of my drugs and then took a whole as-needed lorazepam to hold back the double-Prozac jumpy crazy weird shit and anything else unpleasant.
I fell asleep for real and for hours. So much for Thursday. I hear Fridays are nice.

I wore my shirt backwards all day today without noticing.

In college, Post Modernists were PoMos, over-educated hipsters

Oh, oh, silly PoMo
So we don't know what's  real
So?
I, too, have days in which I lash out in outfits
We are so rebellious
Twist up in the meta meta meta
Every generation has us
So so subversive
Can instead we laugh?
Not hate ourselves but laugh?
Twirl our perception of perception around in our fingertips
Love every echo of the meta meta meta
Lose ourselves in it, instead of thinking about trying to lose ourselves in it.
PoMo, let go.

I don't want anything touching me right now. I get like this around the Imparting of the Red Sea, where everything feels icky. I only want to eat smooth cool foods and wear slips and my lingerie/chemise things all the time.
Ok, now I  can't fucking think or write. I have  all  this  writey crap in  my head and getting it down isn't working. I feel electrically charged. The way people describe before they get hit by lightning.

Frustrated.

Roach Attack

Roaches were living in my dishwasher.

Shock value accomplished, I should be more specific. There's space in the door behind the stainless steel face where all the electrical and mechanical workings of the dishwasher stay dry. I imagine if you're a bug it's a pretty fabulous space to live, warm and steamy, always surrounded by food smells, but dry enough that there's a designated spot in there for your instructional  booklet.

I clean my kitchen a lot. I get a bit OCD about it. The first time I opened the dishwasher and a roach crawled out, I was grossed out as all  hell but I chased it down and killed it. The second time I opened the dishwasher and a  roach crawled out of the same little spot as the first time, it was too disgusting a possibility to comprehend. Then Friday I saw a  roach on the digital display, went to kill it, and discovered it was in the digital display.
Screwdriver, paper towels, garbage bag, indoor bug spray.
I had my dishwasher in pieces and it wasn't even 7:30 AM.

As soon as I saw the bug in the display I had this mental picture of a horror show crawling with a layer of roaches. So when instead I chased maybe 20-50 insects out of plastic compartments and insulating foam and around the wires and processors, it felt quite manageable. "Cockroach holocaust" and "I'm issuing a fatwa on creepy crawly things" kept playing in my mind. [Insert thought-provoking commentary on the religious nature of my bug-killing mentality HERE.]

I need to go camping. Then I'm invading the bugs' space and things are supposed to be dirty covered in dirt because they are made out of dirt.

Thanks to a 2 1/2 hour nap today, I am awake  after 10:30 PM for  the first time since...Wednesday?

I did a lot of good things today. Icing on the accomplishment cake: staying awake past 10.