Put Words To It

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I dreamed last night I lived in Detroit and I dreamed last night, in the same dream, but separately that I escaped from a frightening Arby’s into a haunted house ride.

De-troit.  Dee-troit.  De-nver.

Did we want dessert?  At this dark, shadowy, film noir fast food restaurant, I wanted dessert, but it was so sweet…just frosted everything, like Cinnabon times a thousand and there was thunder and lightning clashing and crashing overhead so I gave up on that thought and found myself in this sort of open-concept haunted house ride.

It had various physical obstacles (ala Nickelodeon’s GUTS when I was a kid).  One of which was some sort of tunnel covered in snow.   This was entirely indoors as the lights flashed on and off in a way that mimicked the earlier lightning.

After crawling through the fake snow with fake, but still functional bits of broken barbed wire in it – caltrops, I guess, I arrived at a floating bar on the wall.  It was hidden, except to me, behind a painting.

Somehow I rode this elevator bar up as though I were Mario and realized, with real dream astonishment, that there was a hidden room upstairs.  I half-registered that this was where they must keep the props and half-believed it was exactly as it seemed, a haunted library. Immediately, I thought I needed to take something with me, that something here was mine.  There was a thin book, with gold-gilded pages, some of which seemed missing.  It had a long title and a latch like a diary.  I had to hide the book in my shirt.

I woke up when I took the floating elevator back down stairs and all of the lights were on, they said it was two years later and I was confused, but knew I still had to hide the book.  It was about 12:30 in the afternoon.  I…don’t know anything more except I needed that time.  That stillness, that struggle within relaxation.

I did get up, and we got over to my parents where…the stillness, oddly enough, somehow continued.   My mother had made BBQ ribs.  I ate myself full and then we worked on another puzzle, which seems to be a major form of comfort to all of us.  For that flowing in and out, to work on the project together.  It makes her happy and I sat there with an ice cream cone thinking to myself, but mostly not thinking because reality is the whole of the world on my shoulders.

Then, my father appeared with a check for $500.00.  I told him I didn’t want it.   Even after all of the Amanda Palmer and taking the doughnuts and accepting help when someone is able and wants to help you, oh, that felt like we were all agreeing that things have gone wrong somewhere somehow.  And I was just hoping to keep on pretending otherwise, in perpetuity.   He gave it to my sister to make me take it – it’s for both of us in that it will let me get things paid so I don’t have to lean on her.  But, wow.   The emotion that I feel attached to that.  I don’t want to be in this position.  I don’t want to be vulnerable like this.

But I am also…grateful.  Grateful that marching towards the abyss means having to pass through so many barriers and so many people reaching out their arms to me.  I mean, there are those in this world that don’t have the resources I have.

Trying to show that gratefulness by taking care of some stuff, getting myself more square, being active in the ways that I can that will improve the situation.  If only allowing me to be more creative and less bogged down with stress in my physical surroundings.

I have an idea for a post now, but it’s late so.  Yeah.

After all of this, I put on Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans.  Nobody seemed to find it as exquisite as I did, but my mother did watch along, riffing, laughing.  I didn’t mind because she was amused in one way or another.  They all said “Oh, it’s just one of her movies.”  In a gentle poke sort of way that, at one time, would have depressed me.  “She just walks to the beat of her own drum.”

I think, in some ways, that’s true.  A silent movie.

I wanted to touch the hard places, to get in there and understand why things are the way they are with me.  Things like the driving and doctor anxiety, the things I’m so unwilling to talk about like sex and love and romance and intimacy but that are so constantly on my mind, body image and weight and perfectionism and what it will take to be in a place where I can just write, be it for a living or for myself, and not get hung up on these other issues and stop in my tracks.

This is a piece.  I want to turn away.  I want to ignore it.  It’s been so many years of ignoring it.  I have to forge forward.  I have to go to the gangrene and the rot and pull things up.  Go down to the foundations and build it anew.

It is okay to have this money.  It’s not okay to pretend that things are going to improve via magical thinking or that I’m satisfied with where things are.  I’m not.  Not yet.  It’s in writing.  I need to know.

Even in the face of my sincere gratitude, I am willing to face this superego and say that I want more.

And the gnashing of teeth

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It’s a real gn sort of day.  Everything feels like it has this GN sound at the front of it.  GNUUUUUGH.

I don’t want to commemorate it.  I want to forget it. I want to be free of the memory and safe in the fact that I am safe and home and in the darkness I know and trust.

But here we are, gnawing at this bone of shame.  So I’ve put on Beautiful Midnight and am getting ready to excavate this hard place I was not expecting to go.  GNAR.

So my car got impounded this morning and while that is important, what is most important is that for a brief, bowel-liquifying moment, I was sure it had been stolen.  I had no idea why it would be, only that it was not in the spot we’d left it last night.  It was the most surreal instance I can remember in a year of surreal living.  It had to be there, but it wasn’t.

So after calling the police, I learned that it wasn’t stolen.  Just absconded by people who apparently have the right to abscond it whenever they feel they care to.  So I have called the impound lot a few miles away and my sister went with me and we walked down the dark corridors of the sketchy but entirely toward sort of office rathole where they keep cars that have been towed away from home and paid my excessive and debilitating fee and went to work in the middle of the day.

Now, having paid that bill, I am not entirely sure how I am going to get everything handled through the end of the month, including keeping myself fed.  It’s just a charming sequence of events I didn’t need.  I just feel like Queen of the doormats and the run-down, stepped-on, shit-eating idiots.

I have to remember that as awful as it was…I still got through it.  I am not disintegrated.  I am alive.

I am glad the work venue changes tomorrow.  I am glad that I am not going to starve even if things get really tough and I have to go and siphon food from the parents.  I am glad that everyone’s kind about it. I’m glad that I have people who want to know why I am upset.  I am glad that I can just say I am upset in front of them.

In other news, I am less glad about dudes who do not get it.  I am working at being better at making them get it.  It being the fact I do not want to talk to anyone who addresses me with wat sup? I don’t.  I have a boundary and that’s what’s written on it.

Also, n.b., waiting for something to appear out of the blue, to arrive when it is least expected, is still waiting.  It’s still hoping.  It’s still training your mind to look for signals, it’s still taking up room in your head.

You are still taking up space in my head.  You oughta pay rent.

 

 

 

 

 

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

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You kind of knew it would be a great day when you go downstairs and your car has a yellow sticker on it notifying that you have expired plates and if you don’t move it in two days, it’ll be towed.  My tags are enroute, though have not currently arrived, and the sticker left big gooey marks and remaining paper on the window.  I am hoping that my printout that tells the authorities I am not outside the law will be readable by punkass parking attendants who apparently have no idea that I’ve parked here for years and years and years and it isn’t even fifteen days after the expiry.  Fffff.   If it gets towed, that’s some…I don’t even want…

Okay.  Sigh.

(Although, this morning I attempted and discovered that another skirt fit – oddly, imperfectly with hemlines not precisely sitting where the designer intended, but the skirt was able to zip and provide body coverage…so maybe these things balance out?)

Then, a bit of focused work for once.  Ate some well-tracked chili because I was too hungry to just not eat anything for lunch the way I thought perhaps I might be able to.  Imagine – a body that requires feeding.  Handled a few things on my checklist and then worried my way to the Dentist where despite being early, everything was hectic for them and grumpy.  The receptionist was lovely in the face of it, but I was trying to determine if I even had enough money for them to do me the favor of telling me to brush my teeth more (and better, and for real, because like, it’s serious) and feeling jumpy because I was not in any of my new comfort zones…and I was at the goddamned dentist when in comes this dude in a hoodie and I can see from my seated position that he has a gun.

I mean, I don’t know this guy from Adam, my appointment should have started ten minutes ago and I’m wondering if I’m supposed to be shouting something to protect the nice receptionist and her obviously less nice colleague.  I actually, uh, stood up and considered asking for a bathroom when they cleared up whatever issue the guy had (it was nothing to do with dental work) and sent him on his merry way.  Then, I got to go back and deal with the overbooked hygienist who could clearly not give two shits about my day or anxieties and basically tells me that my four month delayed appointment means that my mouth is full of evil spirits.   The actual dentist comes in for two seconds, pokes around a bit, yep, evil spirits, take some Listerine and mean it.

I, being me, am petrified at my mouth failings and have already held my cool together as long and as far as I can, swear on anybody’s grave I can think of that I will brush my teeth for hours and floss for years and bathe in Listerine, drink it with my new all-vegan, acid-free diet of calcium tablets and blow.   Whatever it takes to have them not decide they need to suddenly extract the wisdom tooth or add another charge for the privilege of breathing at me.

So. That done, I went and walked a quick mile around my parents house.  I would have done more, but I had to pee to the point of pain and was no longer seeing the positive benefits of alone time if alone time meant time to think.

Because when I get that quiet time lately, I think things like, “Hmm, do I have any opinion on Valentine’s Day?”  And my immediate reply is: “My opinion is fuck you.”

Mostly, I’ve been grumpy about the short-term financial stuff that I really can’t talk to anyone about either because they don’t need to know because they’ll wig out at me and tell me their opinion of what I absolutely have to do right now without any background detail.  All solutions I don’t need and am not willing to do.  Or they already know and they can’t do anything about it and it’ll just be upsetting and frustrating to be told it can’t be helped yet again. And they’ll be worried and sad themselves about it, like a fresh scab picked at too soon.  So I’ll see that energy and I will try and cosset and calm them down about it and again…don’t want to do that at all.

So.  Yeah.  I don’t have what I need right now.  I want to get things…like food…and I’m contemplating getting them and I keep realizing I can’t and how painful and exhausting this would be for someone to have to live with every single day instead of the few more days this month I have to do it.

And maybe this will keep me from running to eat something inappropriate to deal with life right now.    Instead, rice, chicken, some kind of magically present vegetable and a bit of hope that the milk hasn’t gone off.

On the Dot

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A late start.  I feel as though I just fell through the week like Alice through the looking glass and here it is, Friday night.

We bought a shit-ton of carpet.  Or my sister mostly did and I contributed.  We need it, but I worry that it’s a lot of money.  But I said that about the heater and the water tank when those went out (at the same time) and it turned out that life is better.  It’s more symbolic than anything, it’s a life upgrade and it’s deciding that you’re worth walking on nice clean, unmucked carpets. But, if those cats start their horrible ways…can’t buy new carpet and then completely cover it with throw rugs and tarpaulin. ot if your aim is a life upgrade, anyway.

Okay.  So this means that the whole place must be measured for this carpet and this is going to happen tomorrow.  And tomorrow I have to go to the hair place where I was thinking I should try and be more assertive and say I want my hair brown (but my reason is pretty flimsy: if we were to go to ComicCon and if I were to wear my Bee costume for that, it would ideally be brown.  But I have no idea if we’re going to get to go over there or not.  Life is a bit insane at the moment, I feel, in terms of just trying to plan your own bullshit much less trying to add in any sort of outside entertainment.  So that would be an expensive dye job for that.  And I’m completely unconvinced I don’t want to get the hair straightened and empinkened again and brought back to life after it’s become this awful thing.  Not awful, just wayward.  Askew.

Whatever I decide, it’s bound, unfortunately, to be expensive.  And right now, I really should be thinking about using this regular expense (it’s getting rather regular and I might have to stave the next one off) to, I don’t know, fund a 401k or something.  There’s frivolous from time to time for fun, and then there’s just going along with what’s happening when the hairstylist runs off and reschedules you and suddenly you feel like you’re chained to this process for life.  Well, yeah, that’s not exactly it.

At the same time, every time I go I feel like it’s a life upgrade.  I get a little bit more interested in being around other people and since tomorrow will also be this gala my boss and I are working in trade for some of their people to help with ours, I might as well be gussied, as they say, the fuck up.  It’s also meaning that I’m doing a driving/uber combo situation, pressing on my edges of what’s comfortable.  I’m fixating on it. It’s going to be a messy, unpleasant, struggle, but this is what life is about.

I know there’s correspondence owed.  I plan to work on some of that tomorrow into Sunday.

Adulterated: Day Three

Your girl is a happy girl so long as she stops with the over-thinking.  I’m working myself up into a state.  I think I needed to have eaten more today, but I’ll take care of that tomorrow.  If not, by grabbing a low-carb tortilla once I get done here.

Yes, I feel very adult today.  I called the credit union and got pre-approved for the loan for an amount I feel comfortable making payments on even if all of a sudden I think there’s kind of a small, found out I had excellent credit (I hate to think of the bots reading today’s post and glowing/vibrating/emoting in whatever way a bot could emote over the keywords  here) and am now making plans to buy both a car and a computer tomorrow because I’ve budgeted for it and now I’m looking at everything and thinking that maybe I need to get snow tires for my car, just in case, and some sort of training and maybe all of this won’t be enough to stop me panicking on the road, and also, I should get an IRA and JFC, I need to calm down on a Friday night.

Being an adult. The thing does get overwhelming.  Especially if you’re anxiety-prone and completely ridiculous like yours truly.

I just want to get everything right and appear virtuous in all of this and that’s…probably not possible.  I feel like maybe people would think that I think I’m grossly indulging myself by making these purchases right now.  Not that right now is different than any other time, but I do feel like a kid in a candy store and that while I need the car right now, I mean the computer isn’t dying. I could go without and save this money, pretend I never even got it.   Not having it would not destroy my world.

But when I think more about it, if I accidentally unplug it, the computer will shut down.  It gets pretty hot.  There’s cracks on both sides, some of the letters are completely worn away, it can handle the games I want to play on it, and it’s going on six years old.  Also, i spend the majority of my home life working and playing with it.  I feel like I can justify spending $700+ dollars on a new one.  I could also get a cheaper one.  There are plenty of laptops at half the price.  But to me, I think I’d rather pay the extra price to have one that can last me another five or six years, play most of the new games that come out that I want to play,   It’ll also give me more mobility – easier to pick up and go.

It’s just a lot of money in my mind and now that I’ve updated YNAB, even though I’ve budgeted for it (and am planning to save $1000 on the down payment from what I’ve projected), I see the other options for that money and the allure of a high balance and lots of savings is real, too.

I think mainly I want someone to swoop in and say, it’s okay, it’s okay to travel and have a new computer and a car.  What a fucking first world delirium to live in.

If you needed a new computer, I wouldn’t hesitate to be excited for you and ask you what you’d be getting.  I would assume that you’d thought about it and decided it was a good idea for you.

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Goal: Less than that

 

 

 

 

Quility

And here I arrive, with a flourish.

Let’s set the scene.  It’s hot, but not infernal.  I have a fan blowing across my legs and a rather non-plussed ceiling fan twirling to little effect over head.  Dusk has fallen and the sky through my, ironically, dusky rose sheers is a faded, muted blue.   I’m mostly dressed, just enough to mitigate the heat.

Listening to Sting at Red Rocks on YouTube in honor of our morning expedition to Red Rocks where I actually got into the ampitheatre itself this time. Once you mind the ramp and the stairs and are inside, it’s alright.   It’s just that heady, tipsy, overheated climb lunging up the stairs in the raised altitude – I had to take several breaks.  But it had the added effect, beyond making me feel a bit disappointed about how middling my seats are in terms of not being front row, of course, greedy wench that I am, of making me feel like the diet and working out that I’m doing now will make it all the easier to do again.

And we did work.  I still have to do the bike and the situps, but I’m not too concerned.  It’s doable, I know that now.   Just gotta tell you a bit more and I will hurry off to do that and then enjoy the tv for the rest of the night.

It is a small, pearlized thing.  Remarkable in its weightlessness.  But I love coming home to a clean front room (clean thanks to my sister’s effort, but I am speaking more generally now) and the cool breeze of the fan and knowing I have a few tasks that will keep me happy and on track, food in the fridge, cold water to drink, and then, my time is mine.  No having to glance around constantly in anguish about the energy I don’t have to clean.   It is nothing, but it’s everything.  And it’s coming at a very strange time right now because now that I’m eating a bit better, even if the scale doesn’t recognize my efforts, and making sure that I’m moving every day as much as I can above and beyond the rote cycling and situps and that is giving me energy.  It’s making me thirstier, sleepier, and more energetic.  The bodily machine is up and running and it needs more maintenance.   Even if only a week has passed.  I know a low carb whoosh is in my future.  Today we got up and I had a shake and went to the market, went to Red Rocks where I didn’t panic on the ramp much as I wanted to, though I’m very curious about the upper lot which we didn’t go to, had a riceless, beanless naked burrito, drove around to nine stores and walked in the 97 degree heat to each of them, went to my parents for a walk with the obnoxious but good-natured dog and to collect a windfall of 600 dollars (a whole other post is warranted about that miracle), ate dinner or as much as I had stomach for since I just wasn’t hungry.

I don’t know if I can keep this up forever, but I’m tranquil about keeping it up for tonight.

Hump Day

Oh, miracles of miracles.  This modern era we live in.  I’m going to sort of disbelieve this day even happened.  A big work hump was overcome.  I’m very proud of myself for taking care of business.  I can’t be more specific, really, but it turned out great.  I started the project and said I want to go to bed tonight not worrying about this.  I want to not have to be sitting here tomorrow with this in the back of my mind.  So I did it, didn’t get yelled at, yelled at myself for being in that situation, felt awkward, let the awkwardness go when I realized that everyone was moving on to other topics and other business and secretly cheered.

There’s no exercise to do today and that’s left me a bit wonky.  I’ve vacuumed a little, emptied the dishwasher, cooked dinner, watched some old school Law and Order and kinda balanced my checkbook.  This is very exciting to me.  Maybe not to anyone else, possibly definitely not to anyone else.  Oh, well.

We’re starting to plan our conference trip for an organization I’m involved in.  This year is not way out in the hinterlands, we don’t have our usual giant horde going due to scheduling, and it’s taking place in my old college town which is fine…all of that is fine.  I’m just trying very hard not to care in the way I have cared or could care about the fact that at this stage my friend gets to go.  The friend who had the accident but is now doing quite well.  There may be drinking.  And no doubt laughter.  The horror! But there isn’t going to be anything else and I know that despite the fact I’m typing this with a great deal of sincerity, it will curl into my brain the next time I see him.   I wish it wouldn’t, but I’m glad it will.

Someone on a popular internet dating site (ahem, ahem) said that I had a beautiful face, but I should have a smiling picture – it would get me further.  You kind of want to respond to that in a snarky way. Not even kind of.  I do want to respond with an acidic glare and ask where this person thinks I want to go and isn’t it a bit much to assume that I he and I would want to go to the same place?  Spread-eagled and grinning into the overhead mirror? But then you remember you’re on the internet and we’re all operating under the basic assumption that we’re all just gagging for it and miserably crying out for attention and anyone and anything will do and in that light, he’s just trying to be helpful and remove obstacles between me and him or me and it and really, I should be thankful that someone gives a damn about a single anonymous spirit floating around in the electric soup.

But I could parse those words with my Neo-Feminist machete backwards and forwards and still end up with the same tailings.   I don’t have anything against him or the compliment.  I feel complimented by the first bit, and a bit rebuffed by the idea that despite the fact it is a dating site, that anyone should even be looking at my face and pretty nonplussed at having to express anything in response to that.  So, there’s the old circular file for that bit of anti-wooing.

Damn, my feet are cold – thus far I’ve been able to ignore the fact it’s minus 9000 degrees and focus on the warmth within.  My heart, my soul, my little wood burner that’s just about reached my ankles.

I hope you are all well.   Wellish.  Weller.  Working on it.   We’re all right, just here and now, in our brokenness.