I used my last two vacation days of the year for today and tomorrow. That means I traded 8+ hours a day sitting at a computer in an uncomfortable chair, dealing with diva-y, demanding reps, customers and freelancers for as many hours a day as I want spent sitting/laying on a worn out Ikea futon (in Ikea's defense, the mattress is from an old Walmart futon I used to own. It's killer. And I don't mean that in a good way) until my hips start to ache like I'm an elderly old woman, watching sappy, sad, supposedly heartwarming movies on TV, like Soul Surfer, which totally made me cry. It's awful. But it beats sitting at that damn desk. But torture, I tell you. For real.
For starters, I don't own a coffee machine. Well, technically, I own one. It's a little 2-serving contraption that I won at an office birthday party about three years ago. I have never taken it out of the box. Nor do I own any coffee grounds or filters or anything like that. I only recently invested in sugar, and that was only because I had a nasty cold and was forced to drink tea, but I'll be damned if I had to drink it without sugar. Or schnapps. Actually I'm pretty sure the schnapps cured the cold. But I digress. So, I don't own a coffee maker, which means that by the time 6pm rolled around, I had one of the worst caffeine headaches ever. I am so addicted to caffeine, that shit doesn't even keep me awake anymore. It's more like it keeps me a functioning member of society. Like the oil can to the Tin Man. So, I decided that I had to go to 7-Eleven, mostly because I have a reusable cup and thus get a discount. Otherwise, I'd totally have gone to Quick Chek, which, in my eyes, is a better establishment.
So I go in there, and get my French Vanilla coffee, and debate looking for some Billy's Pan Pizzas to eat with my coffee in my Ikea-furnished apartment and pretend I have a dragon tattoo, but in the end just opt for coffee. I get up to the register and it's $1.34. I fish out what I thought was $1.35 to give to the dude, so you can understand my consternation when he asks if I have four pennies, like it would be easier for me to fish out four cents than it would be for him to give me one back. Turns out, I only give him $1.30. And when I apologize to him, it comes out in a voice that I do not recognize at all. I don't know if it sounded weird to him too, or if he was merely reacting to the puzzled look on my face as I listened to a strange voice coming out of my own mouth. It was just an awkward situation, so I took my coffee and left. As I sat in my car waiting for it to warm up a little before I try to force it up the road back to my house, the voice echoed in my head. I can't even begin to describe it. It wasn't Danny Torrence-y, which is surprising given that the cashier was the first person I'd spoken to all day. But I had already been awake for about 8 hours, so the froggy voice had gone away. No, the voice was deeper and slightly detached from my body. I heard it like it wasn't actually coming out of my body, though it was saying the words that my brain was telling it to. It was a very strange, almost out-of-body type of experience. That ever happen to you? I can't quite shake it. The feeling. The odd, displaced feeling.
The coffee was really good though.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Post-vacay depression or PMS? Hard to tell.
But either way, I am about three false moves away from digging my thumbs into someone's neck and strangling the life out of them.
I hate being this kind of blogger: the one who only writes when she's depressed, which is a lot of the time (hey, maybe I have depression. What a novel idea!). I've played this game before, and when I go back and read what I've written, it's not a fun game to play. And it's probably not fun for anyone reading this. But, sometimes you have to get it out.
I hate being this kind of blogger: the one who only writes when she's depressed, which is a lot of the time (hey, maybe I have depression. What a novel idea!). I've played this game before, and when I go back and read what I've written, it's not a fun game to play. And it's probably not fun for anyone reading this. But, sometimes you have to get it out.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Pouring My Heart Out... Though It's More Like a Dribble
So, it has been way way WAY too long since I last updated this thing. Over a year. I am the shittiest blogger ever.
For about a week, I've wanted to post something here, but whenever I sat down and thought about what to put here, I came up short. What the hell could I write here that would be worth anyone's time reading? I suppose since this was a personal blog and didn't have any real direction, my boring life is the way to go. And I know I've tried the whole rebirth of a blog thing before, and I've ALWAYS failed miserably. I'm not even going to pretend that this is me trying to breathe life back into my silly little blog. It's just a single entry. Nothing special, except a reminder that I'm still here.
The problem, I think (and I know I've mentioned this before), is that there are so many other social networking sites. I barely keep up with Facebook, Tumblr comes and goes in my mind, though if I ever need a pictures-of-pretty-people fix, that's really the place to be. The only social networking site I use consistently is Twitter. The thing about those three is that they're all connected. If I post something on Tumblr that I don't want people to see, I have to run to Facebook to delete it. I always have to think about how my family or my co-workers would react to certain things. For the most part, I have a "who cares" attitude, but, you know what, dammit? Sometimes I want to be angsty and emotional and irrational, and fuck it. Who even has this link anymore? Who even reads it (besides maybe Amy. Hi, Amy!)?? I mean, if anyone bothered to go back through my past entires, there's enough of the angst and emotion to power a small town. Provided emotion can be converted to an energy source. You know what I mean.
So, what's happened to me in the past year? Well, I think the BIGGEST change is that I finally dumped my boyfriend of, like, three and a half years. This was back in April (Damn, I DO suck). I mentioned him on the blog back in 2007 when we met, if you want to run and read the stupid entry I wrote about him. When I read it over, it just sounds so phony. And I'll be honest here, AS I was writing it, I felt like a giant phony. Like I knew I should be excited about him, and I should be gushing, but I just could not muster the adequate emotions. Perhaps that should have been my first clue that this would be no good. Either that or the fact that he told me he loved me, like, a month or so into our dating. No, that's not sweet. That's fucking creepy. Yeah, I'm talking dirt. What of it?
I was dating him when my dad died (I don't know if I ever mentioned this on this blog before. Hell, there are still some people in my life who don't know that fact about me), and I think that was when I really started debating dumping him. He wasn't very comforting, for one. It happened very close to the end of the Fall semester my senior year in college, and I had to go home before the semester ended. So I ended up having a full month break before I came back for the Spring semester. I can still remember the visceral feeling I had watching him pull up to the curb to pick me up from the airport. Almost like I didn't recognize him, and I didn't want to get in the car with him. Stranger Danger and all that. Something felt off. Of course, I fell into a bit of a depression, and I considered dumping him. In a moment of clarity, I even realized that my dad would probably even advise me to dump him, but I could never gather my nerve enough to do it. So it dragged on.
It just got to be too much. My brain telling me one thing while my heart told me another. My brain was the bigger idiot, telling me that everything was okay, nothing he said was that bad, I could get over it, beyond it. But the whole time, my heart was screaming that I was an idiot and I needed to get as far away as possible for my own good. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to listen to my heart, the truth that I knew deep down for so long, but willfully ignored. Because why? Because I'm an idiot.
This wasn't the original purpose of this post. It just drifted this way. And I certainly didn't mean to talk about Mumford and Sons again, but they ARE my soulband so it's pretty inevitable. But the reason I bring them up is because, as cheesy as it sounds, a few of their songs helped me find the strength inside myself to finally pull off that band-aid.
Love, it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you.
It will set you free
As cliche as it may seem, I want that tattooed on me somewhere.
And I feel numb beneath your tongue
Your strength just makes me feel less strong...
And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, I'll be on my way...
That one rarely doesn't elicit tears.
So there, you go. The little post that almost wasn't and then I end up pouring out just a tiny fraction of my heart. Thanks, blog. You're a great listener.
For about a week, I've wanted to post something here, but whenever I sat down and thought about what to put here, I came up short. What the hell could I write here that would be worth anyone's time reading? I suppose since this was a personal blog and didn't have any real direction, my boring life is the way to go. And I know I've tried the whole rebirth of a blog thing before, and I've ALWAYS failed miserably. I'm not even going to pretend that this is me trying to breathe life back into my silly little blog. It's just a single entry. Nothing special, except a reminder that I'm still here.
The problem, I think (and I know I've mentioned this before), is that there are so many other social networking sites. I barely keep up with Facebook, Tumblr comes and goes in my mind, though if I ever need a pictures-of-pretty-people fix, that's really the place to be. The only social networking site I use consistently is Twitter. The thing about those three is that they're all connected. If I post something on Tumblr that I don't want people to see, I have to run to Facebook to delete it. I always have to think about how my family or my co-workers would react to certain things. For the most part, I have a "who cares" attitude, but, you know what, dammit? Sometimes I want to be angsty and emotional and irrational, and fuck it. Who even has this link anymore? Who even reads it (besides maybe Amy. Hi, Amy!)?? I mean, if anyone bothered to go back through my past entires, there's enough of the angst and emotion to power a small town. Provided emotion can be converted to an energy source. You know what I mean.
So, what's happened to me in the past year? Well, I think the BIGGEST change is that I finally dumped my boyfriend of, like, three and a half years. This was back in April (Damn, I DO suck). I mentioned him on the blog back in 2007 when we met, if you want to run and read the stupid entry I wrote about him. When I read it over, it just sounds so phony. And I'll be honest here, AS I was writing it, I felt like a giant phony. Like I knew I should be excited about him, and I should be gushing, but I just could not muster the adequate emotions. Perhaps that should have been my first clue that this would be no good. Either that or the fact that he told me he loved me, like, a month or so into our dating. No, that's not sweet. That's fucking creepy. Yeah, I'm talking dirt. What of it?
I was dating him when my dad died (I don't know if I ever mentioned this on this blog before. Hell, there are still some people in my life who don't know that fact about me), and I think that was when I really started debating dumping him. He wasn't very comforting, for one. It happened very close to the end of the Fall semester my senior year in college, and I had to go home before the semester ended. So I ended up having a full month break before I came back for the Spring semester. I can still remember the visceral feeling I had watching him pull up to the curb to pick me up from the airport. Almost like I didn't recognize him, and I didn't want to get in the car with him. Stranger Danger and all that. Something felt off. Of course, I fell into a bit of a depression, and I considered dumping him. In a moment of clarity, I even realized that my dad would probably even advise me to dump him, but I could never gather my nerve enough to do it. So it dragged on.
It just got to be too much. My brain telling me one thing while my heart told me another. My brain was the bigger idiot, telling me that everything was okay, nothing he said was that bad, I could get over it, beyond it. But the whole time, my heart was screaming that I was an idiot and I needed to get as far away as possible for my own good. I just wish it hadn't taken me so long to listen to my heart, the truth that I knew deep down for so long, but willfully ignored. Because why? Because I'm an idiot.
This wasn't the original purpose of this post. It just drifted this way. And I certainly didn't mean to talk about Mumford and Sons again, but they ARE my soulband so it's pretty inevitable. But the reason I bring them up is because, as cheesy as it sounds, a few of their songs helped me find the strength inside myself to finally pull off that band-aid.
Love, it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you.
It will set you free
As cliche as it may seem, I want that tattooed on me somewhere.
And I feel numb beneath your tongue
Your strength just makes me feel less strong...
And I'll walk slow, I'll walk slow
Take my hand, I'll be on my way...
That one rarely doesn't elicit tears.
So there, you go. The little post that almost wasn't and then I end up pouring out just a tiny fraction of my heart. Thanks, blog. You're a great listener.
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