The One... The Only... The Vieve

My life right now

To risk alienating myself further and scaring away all potential fun-bringers, this list represents my life at the moment (though, "this too shall pass," right?):

• Shut up in my room, working
• Shut up in my room, blowing my nose
• Shut up in my room, thinking, mostly of things that make me cry, make me angry (often at myself), make me resentful, and make my stomach hurt, though occasionally make me laugh
• Shut up in my room, wondering what other people are doing and where they are
• On my porch, reading Bonk, which is a very good book
• Shut up in my room again, writing here, and waiting for... something

Blergh

I am sick and full of snot. My chest hurts, and my throat is swollen to exciting proportions. This happened, of course, just as I was finishing my antibiotics for strep, which was mild and didn't make me feel very yucky at all. Now I feel like ass. Damn it.

I am stuck in bed on the first really summery weekend, after a week of clouds and rain, and I am feeling petulant. Like a little kid. I want to go out and play, but I guess I will do work and drink tea instead. Just when I was feeling ready to get out and un-hermit myself.

Oh well. What can you do.

I'll tax the heat, I'll tax your feet

Ah, freelance work. So freeing! Glamorous! Lucrative!

Ha. Fucking expensive is what.

I was shocked at my tax bill, especially considering I made, oh, about $10K less than I did in 2006 and had massive deductions for health insurance, until someone reminded me that I don't have an employer to pay Social Security taxes for me. Oh, right. Well, fuck me, then.

I sent big checks yesterday, and still only paid about 1/3 of what I owe. Woo.

Telepathy

I am grumpy this week, which takes a lot of energy, and I hit the end of my reserves last night. I was tired of trying, tired of organizing, but also bored and lonely. I wanted to do something, sort of, but didn't want to make the effort. "Let them come to me!" I thought, in a nasty, snarly way.

When I feel like this, when I have things to say but haven't, when they've been gnawing at me and poisoning my brain and my gut, when I feel like no one gives a shit, when I'm in "nobody likes me everybody hates me I'm going to go eat worms 'cause I suck" mode, I like to formulate tests. Super secret tests that no one knows about and that absolutely everyone fails.

Because people CAN'T READ MY FUCKING MIND. Duh.

So, really, everyone fails my tests, but I'm the one who loses. And I felt like a loser last night, and I still feel like one today.

Perspective

Things that are stressing me out right now:

1. My work
2. My bank account
3. My canceled plans for this coming weekend (related to my bank account)
4. A million other things related to my bank account
5. A million other things related to my work

Things that are not stressing me out at the moment:

1. A million things unrelated to my work and my bank account
2. The fact that the things that are stressing me out now will cease to stress me out a little ways down the road

WHERE IS THE FUCKING CAN OPENER?

By 11:30 this morning I was starving, and my crankiness was at its peak. "Soup, I'll have soup." However, I couldn't find the can opener, so I had to use the sketchy electric one that I've never seen anyone use (because we had a perfectly good manual one). Mission accomplished, but it made me so fucking pissy, I want to punch someone. This incident came after a morning spent fuming about how dirty our house is (I am the only person who has vacuumed, ever, or cleaned the bathroom) and an alarming realization that all of the plates but one were missing (they were in the dining room for whatever reason). Also, there is still a plate of food and three beer bottles on my porch, left from a roommate's 4th of July BBQ. It offends me and encroaches on my porchly peace, but I will not clean it up, on principle.

Work is also making me angry. I've been doing the same book for forever, and it is so bad, and I am so sick of it, I can feel my blood pressure rising with each missing article I insert and each randomly capitalized word I lowercase and each query I make that simply reads "???".

I would rather think and write about puppies and unicorns, but all I can see is red.

Wham bam

I am at home feeling a little sad and sorry for myself and a lot cranky (mostly hormonal, but also situational), and I ate a mess of chili and then fell asleep for about an hour, during which I had a nightmare, in which:

1. Someone who is very important to me made fun of me and deeply hurt my feelings

2. Someone also very important to me was very sick and sure to die very soon

3. Someone broke my heart.

Wham, bam, fuck you very much.

Bad juju

Things feel weird, my sleep is all fucked up, tomorrow is a bad anniversary, and I really really have to pee but for some reason can't make myself get up and do it.

Also, I didn't get my plants planted, because the soil out front is so shitty, I need to mix in some goodstuff before I can harbor any hopes of it propagating life. No energy today, and too rainy. Tomorrow?

Basically, I am feeling bummed and tired and oogy and restless, and I don't think there's much to be done about it. I guess just wait it out. It never lasts forever.

Happiness is...

I'm not exactly sure what happiness is at the moment, but I know it doesn't involve waking up and puking at 4 a.m. In fact, I think that whatever the opposite of waking up and puking at 4 a.m. is, that is most likely happiness.

I am not happy today.

Stupid

I just got my computer back, and it's working, but it's all empty and I hate fiddling with shit like this and Front Row isn't on there, so I can't use my remote like I want, and so I think I just need to reinstall my shit from the original discs I have but I can't deal with it now and it is making me so frustrated, I am crying. Not just an angry tear seeping out, but full-on crying. Goddamnit. I just want to watch fucking Wrath of Khan and eat my motherfucking dinner and go to bed.

Fuckers.

eta: I think this involves more than my stupid computer. Duh.

Let's do the math

On the plus side:

- I finally have a relatively large sum of money in my bank account now, so I can pay rent and stuff. (Freelance = feast or famine. Exciting!)

- My computer is (supposedly) fixed, so I can pick that up tomorrow, after I fork over a chunk of cash to Apple and their cadre of Evil Geniuses.

- The sun came out today.

- I seem to have entirely lost my appetite. This is really not good, and gives me yet another thing about which to obsessively worry, but at least perhaps I will lose some of my winter chub.

- After spending the better part of 24 hours in bed, I no longer feel on the verge of physical illness. Woozy, but not nearly as assy.

On the minus side:

- I feel like I am losing my ever-loving mind. I fear this trumps all.

Fuck you, winter

Uncle.

Crikey

Last night I ventured out into the slush and onto the T, downtown, where I have a weekly thing. I picked my way over mounds of ice and around tidepools of ice water of indeterminate depth. After I got out of the T station, the wind pushed me around on the icy sidewalk, and then I stepped in a 6-inch-deep lake of slush. Then I got to my thing, only to find out it had been canceled. Fuuuuuck. Either I'm losing my mind and I just forgot it was canceled or no one called to tell me. Thoughts of either, but particularly the latter, pissed me off. So much.

I dried out my shoe, fired off an angry/pathetic text message, and then headed back, packing myself into a train, extricating myself, and then squishing myself into another train. Walked back out into the cold wind, picked my way around the ice floes again. I got to my car, and decided to be responsible and clean it off before the snow froze into a solid mass. I tried opening the car door, so I could get the scraper, but it had frozen shut. My hand slipped from the handle, which caught and ripped off one of my fingernails. I cursed. And cursed more. Then I chopped the damn ice off the hood and windshield. And cursed some more.

Winter: 5 bazillion. Vieve: 0.

Warning

Pewp

I am missing Fun at a friend's house because I am old and tired. Instead, I am cooking some gyoza and drinking beer and reading the New Yorker, alone. However, I did answer friend's Star Trek questions correctly, without use of IMDB. I am Vindicated.

And old and tired. Pewp.

Seasonal Affective Dumbassery

I woke up depressed. I can't shake my unease and malaise. I want to go back to bed, even though I've spent about 18 of the past 24 hours there already.

It must be November.

The Little Tale of Cranky McCrankerpants

The Vieve woke up cranky this morning. Hmph. She felt sad and misanthropic. Hmph hmph. She wanted to punch someone in the nose.

KAPOW!

So, the Vieve took a nap. She woke up grumpy. But less tired. But still. Grump grump grump. "Where's an extra nose when you need one?" she thought.

HMPH.

Vermicious vipers

I just sent COBRA an enormous check, so I can continue to receive medical care without bankrupting myself. However, since my former employer's HR department got the ball rolling two weeks late (well, and to be fair, I didn't send in the paperwork right away), insurance has caught wind of my "termination," and is now denying claims. Pain in my goddamn ass.

Can I move to Canada, pretty please? My grandfather was born there (though he moved to the States when he was 18 or so; hey, it was the Depression, and he had aspirations other than fishing), and my great(-great?-)grandfather was the first Acadian member of Parliament. This counts for something, no?

Meh. I will sort it out, as usual. Bureaucracy can kiss my ass, though.

Hmph

I am wearing a turtleneck sweater today. It feels like it's strangling me. We are displeased.

Dummy

I feel like such a dumbass this week, for so many reasons. The week's not over yet, though. I suppose things could improve.

Fucking fuck

It is a Very Bad Thing when you catch yourself walking down the hall at work, returning to your office from fighting with a recalcitrant printer, muttering, "Fuck fuck fucking fuck."

Fucking fuck. That's all I can say at the moment.

Wonderland

I'm part Alice, part Red Queen today.

"I wish I hadn't cried so much!" said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. "I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears! That WILL be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day."

The Queen turned crimson with fury, and, after glaring at her for a moment like a wild beast, screamed "Off with her head! Off--"

Crying, raging. It isn't fair. I feel so awful, in my head and in my body, and it only seems to be getting worse. I want someone to hold me and reassure me that everything is going to be OK. And the only person who can do that at the moment, can't. We're both fixer-uppers, were and still are. Still not sure why the project was abandoned, with wiring left bare and plaster all over the floor. Unfinished, maybe in a worse state than when it started.

I guess it's not worth thinking about. But I can't help it, when there were so many lovely details and potential. But maybe I saw things that were there only for me. It's been known to happen.

Dread

I just realized the hormone nonsense is going to hit like a fucking sledgehammer on Tuesday. I'm kind of scared. Shit.

Burden

I feel like a mule. The one who always holds the burden. The one who always has to work it out. The one who always has to suck it up and deal. The one who has to smooth and soothe and make things OK. Somehow be OK, when it's not easy or even possible.

YOU make it better. YOU make it up to me. Because god knows, I've given all I can give. I've shouldered as much as I can carry. I've wasted too much energy already. You figure out a way to make it OK. I can't, I won't. And if you don't want to, if it's not important enough to try, well. That's a reflection on you, not me.

"Issues" are not an excuse. I'm not buying it anymore.

180

Now I feel like punching someone in the face. It doesn't really matter who it is. Beware.

I'm starting to hate myself a little for feeling so much. It seems...unseemly. Immature, maybe. A waste of energy, really. Because it doesn't change one fucking thing. I can't make someone else see things the way I see them, or feel them the way I do. Or turn back time and handcuff someone to a chair until they just tell me already what the fuck they're thinking. I can't stop anyone from making choices that affect me, even when those choices are based on incomplete information (cause no one asked me what I thought or felt). I can't stop anyone from misinterpreting what I say. I can't do any of these things.

I am so frustrated right now, I can't even begin to describe it.

Forget it

I'm getting into bed and eating the rest of my chocolate ice cream. Fuck it.

Fuck.

Karma

I got a comment on here last week that pissed me off at the time, enormously. A comment from someone I don't know, which doesn't happen often, except for the spam, and I don't think this was spam... Anyway, in response to this, I got "Sounds awful, you may need a good game of disc golf." Followed by a link to a women's disc golf message board.

Was that a joke? If so, it was a dumb one. I almost shot an email back saying, simply, "Fuck you." (I'm almost positive the email address is legit.) But I didn't. But it's still bothering me a little. So I figured I'd write something about it.

Confidential to "Eddie": Don't mock someone's anguish. It makes you look like an asshole.

Still...

I still feel like an asshole today, though. Just so you know.

Reality is busted

I keep trying to update my reality, and it won't take.

There are too many obvious metaphors (messages? I don't know) in this. It's so banal.

My tummy still hurts. I need to eat something, but I'm afraid that won't take either.

Turn it off

I can't do this anymore. I just sat in my car for 10 minutes and listened to Neko Case and cried, and the last post was so ridiculously melodramatic, I'm embarassed.

I need to switch it off for a while. I need a break. It's too much. I don't want to think about it or feel it or write about it anymore. I'm done.

Something has to give

I'm not taking care of myself, and it's painfully apparent. My head is fuzzy, woolly, heavy, full of dull pain. My jaw aches and pops. My back has a million tender points, and crackle-snaps when I shift around. My legs feel full of electricity, twitchy and prickly. My sinuses feel swollen; my eyes are swollen, perpetually.

I'm not eating. I'm not sleeping. I'm drinking more than I ought to. I'm not exercising. Even though I need these things even more (or less) right now than I normally do.

Why am I so perverse. Why am I in so much pain. How do I endure. I've had my fill and then some.

Punch

Why does feeling so angry I want to punch someone in the face make me also feel like crying? It's so frustrating that anger = tears. Makes it tough to deliver a credible smackdown, even one that's only in my fantasy-full head.

Crankypants

I don't think I should be allowed to interact with other people today. I've been at work for all of an hour, and already I've acted like a bitch to one poor little coworker, and I just told another one, "Do NOT fuck with me today."

Oy. I wish I could go back to bed and soothe myself with potato chips and game shows and chocolate, but it's just not in the cards today. Life keeps happening, the bills keep coming, the deadlines keep looming, even when you desperately need at least a little break from reality. Grrrr.

Mess

Life is so fucking messy. Like a messy, rotten, neverending onion, with too many layers that all make you cry like a fool as you work your way through it.

And furthermore...

I suppose I'm lucky I even have my own office, but I wish I had a real door instead of a sliding glass one. I can't have a good cry without feeling all jumpy that someone's going to walk by and see me. (Though, now that I think about it, so what if they do?)

And I think it's a bad sign that I just listened to that Gary Jules song (you know, THAT song, the Donnie Darko one) three times in a row.

Gah. I feel like I should apologize to people reading this, even though this space is, first and foremost, for me. I feel like I'm being much too public with all this stuff. I've always done the opposite, and hid my sadness and bad feelings, but I know that's not good for me. And I feel like I'm grieving too much, and making a pathetic ass of myself. I really don't know. I'm new to all of this in certain ways, and in other ways it's old hat. I don't know whether I can evaluate this situation, and I don't know whether I'm handling things relatively well or not. But I guess no one can really tell me that. I have to decide that for myself. Meh.

For right now, I guess I'll finish my cry, and then I think I need to walk over to Hi-Rise and buy myself a Fern's Problem Solver (ha), my most favorite sandwich there (turkey and avocado and cheese and Russian dressing, grilled, on excellent semolina bread), and then take it to the park and eat it there while I watch the birds flit and cheep around in the cattails, and watch kids playing and enjoying the day, and maybe pet a puppy or two.

Annoyances

My work computer, which froze and wouldn't unlock for me this morning. This has happened at least twice every week for the past 8 months. I'm going to throw this thing out the fucking window soon. It is SIX YEARS OLD. Seriously. SIX. And I work for a tech company. Ridiculous and infuriating.

My emotional masochistic streak, which has been blazing and crackling like a string of fireworks the past couple of days.

The achy pains and muscle twitches in my legs, which went away for a few days but which are now back and are thoroughly bugging the shit out of me.

That I have to be inside for the entirety of this glorious spring day. I'd rather be outside for a long, solitary bike ride. I think it would do me good. Fucking deadlines.

That I didn't have anyone to watch The Amazing Race with last night.

That I feel all blocked up and heavy with sadness and self-pity.

Tired

I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm tired of being the practice girlfriend. I miss my dog, and I'm tired of feeling sad about that. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of scrounging for change for a cup of coffee because I can't go to the ATM til payday. I'm tired of getting my hopes up. I'm tired of my best friends moving to faraway places like Pittsburgh and San Francisco and Vietnam. I'm tired of starting over. I'm tired of talking talking talking and it not getting me where I want to be. I'm tired of this place, and tired of feeling stuck here. I'm just so fucking tired.

Meager means

I undeniably, utterly live beyond my means. Evidenced by the bitch slap my bank account just gave me. I think I need to stop going to Whole Foods. And Lush. And every other pleasure-giving retail-therapy hotspot. Sigh.

I feel irresponsible today. And (pseudo)poor. And disappointed that I still live paycheck-to-paycheck. I'm too old for this. I guess it's time to be a grownup and fire up the Quicken and figure out a stupid budget.

Sometimes I hate being a grownup.

Don't look back

Lately I've been feeling kind of nostalgic and sad and old, thinking about the past and missed opportunities and unlived-up-to expectations. Mistakes and lost years. Everything that could have been but wasn't. Wondering whether those things still can be, or whether it's too late.

I guess it doesn't do much good, this looking back, unless it helps you figure out the future. But I'm feeling the need to wallow in it a little bit. The sad times and the helpless-feeling stuckness and the crappy boyfriends and lovers. All the stuff that makes me feel incapable of creating the life I want. The stuff that deadens my spirit and makes me wonder what the hell the point is anyway. And whether I would even recognize it if it bit me on the ass.

I'll try not to wallow too much, but damn. Thinking back on these things, in the mood I'm in now, makes me wonder what the hell my problem is. What's wrong, and how do I fix it?

C'mon now

Like I told Chris this morning, I think my body hates me.

I don't know why it hates me. I feed it good, tasty foods, like organic fruit and soybeans and French cheeses and fish and soba noodles and spinach and almonds and full-fat ice cream. I exercise it, with running and biking and weights and yoga. I cleanse it and moisturize it like a motherfucker with lovely Lush products. I give it enough sleep (usually). I don't punish it with toxic substances (every day). I get massages when I can afford them and take hot baths and saunas to try to relax it. Everything should be A-OK, right?

But no. I'm going to the doctor again today. My legs hurt, and have hurt for a couple of weeks now, and my feet feel tingly, and my lower back started really hurting yesterday. I feel like a crazy person, what with all my afflictions.

It's always something. I just want to feel good for more than one or two days at a time. Is that too much to ask?

Why today is stinky

1. It's snowing out. Hard. (Spring, you're a terrible tease, you know that?)
2. I got a $50 ticket this morning for street cleaning. (I've come to rely on you, BostonSweeper, and you totally let me down. What the hell?)
3. Work is piling up, and I'm going to have to scramble today and tomorrow to get things done.
4. I had to do something this morning that was so so disgusting, it made me want to throw up.
5. My tummy hurts, and my legs ache, and it's all sort of mysterious, which makes me fixate on them, which probably makes them worse.
6. I've gained about 5 pounds over the past month or so, and I feel bloated and disgusting.

Nyah. I'm going to go sit in a corner and eat some worms.

Ow

I'm on day three of a very painful and persistent headache. Maybe it's a migraine, maybe it's a bad tension headache, maybe it's hormone-related. I really don't know. What I do know is that Advil doesn't make it go away, I'm leaving work soon, and I'm getting a hot rock massage at 3pm. Nyah! (Ow.) Woo! (Ow ow.)

Online job sites + full moon = existential crisis

So, things have reached a point in worky-work land that necessitates updating the resume and commencing a casual yet concentrated search for something new. Which sucks for so many reasons, but mainly the new and exciting opportunities for rejection; writing the dreaded cover letter, over and over again, with just the right mix of enthusiasm and professionalism, warmth and distance, generality and specificity; realizing I have absolutely nothing appropriate to wear to interviews (I don't do suits, pantyhose, or heels--never have, and never will if I can help it. Well, maybe for six figures. Maybe); realizing that I'm maybe on a career track that is leading nowhere, or at least certainly not toward financial security and perhaps not toward sustained job satisfaction, and wondering what the hell I should do about that. Which makes me question MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE and REASON FOR BEING. Buh.

Seriously, I am starting to wonder whether publishing is for me. It's kind of a bitchy-backstabby business, the job security is pretty shaky, and they pay you absolute crap. I love books, and I love helping to create them (well, theoretically anyway), but maybe that's not enough. Money is not exceedingly important to me--I don't need to be raking it in to feel fulfilled, certainly, and doing something I love and am excited about is more important than dollars. However, the fact that I have 7+ years experience in this business and just last year my income finally nudged above the de facto poverty line for Metro Boston is just a wee bit depressing. I want to be able to save money, buy a house someday, pay off my student loan and credit card debt, maybe eventually buy a car that's not at least 10 years old...these aren't extravagant goals, you know?

But what else would I do? I have no fucking clue, even though I've spent the whole morning obsessing about it. So I turn to you. Tell me what I might be good at, might enjoy, might make some decent money doing. Or tell me what you think my skills are--maybe I'm overlooking something. (I already know I'm good at obsessing over minutiae, worrying, procrastinating, and eating snacks, so, you know, something other than those things.) I'm being a little silly here, but I really do need some help, so please send me your ideas if you got 'em.

Thanks in advance for your time and consideration. I look forward to further discussion regarding this matter.

Sincerely,
vv

Conjunctions are your friends. Periods and semicolons are also quite lovely.

If I have to fix one more fucking comma splice in this motherfucking, shitty-ass book, I'm going to scream.

Ahem. Hi.

Teary

It's amazing how effective hormones can be at making you feel all fucked up. That's my scapegoat of the moment, anyway.

Alms for the tense

I'm sitting in my office, my first day here this week, and I've had a tension headache since 9am. Just thinking about coming in today and catching up and dealing with the turmoil roiling around this place lately made my jaw clench so tightly I could have cracked a walnut. Now it's almost 6, I can't really see straight, and I am miserable. And so I start thinking, hmm, I should get another one of those hot rock massages like I got a month ago when I used that gift certificate from my birthday. And then I started thinking, I don't have $140 + tip to spend on such frippery, worth-every-penny though it might be. And THEN I started thinking, maybe I should take up a collection. Alms for the tense! Alms for the I-can't-even-relax-my-right-pinky-I'm-so-tense! Won't you help me, please?

But then I started thinking that I am an ungrateful whiner and I should be happy I even have a job and health insurance and a roof over my head and organic chocolate to eat and people who love me and... and... you know, all the stuff I have. Which doesn't include enough money to get a hot rock massage whenever I want to, but still.

So now I feel tense AND guilty. But if you want to take up a collection anyway, I won't stop you.

Let it go

I want to let go and just forget about it. The hurt feelings and slights and adolescent behavior. It's not worth my time to dwell on what's past and not all that important, particularly when I've moved on and have a 100% better new thing evolving.

But then I have a dream that wakes up the hurt feelings (and wakes me up at 5 AM), and then I wonder, "Should I let go? Can I?" And I feel such a compelling desire to say my piece, because obviously it's bothering me. But then I think, what would that achieve? Would I feel better? Or would I just feel like a weirdo nincompoop? And why do things like this bother me so much anyway? And it goes round and round my head like an irritating, nauseating, not-so-fun amusement park ride. Kind of like "It's a Small World" at Disney World, it makes me want to run away screaming, but I'm stuck on that stupid little boat.

And all that thinking just makes me cranky, and doesn't get me anywhere good. So fuck it. I'll let it go. It's not worth the energy.

My head is fuzzier than my sweater

I didn't sleep very well last night, which happens a lot, but last night was worse than it has been in a while. I have a headache, and my brain is all fuzzy, and I have a ton of work to do before I leave for my whirlwind holiday tour.

I wish I could focus, but I can't at the moment. I wish I could climb into my hammock and take a nap. I wish I could just go home and try again tomorrow. Instead, I will continue to gaze, glazed-over.

The PO can suck it

So, what I want to know is why the post office doesn't forward important mail (say, credit card bills, my Atlantic Monthly magazine, big fat checks from anonymous patrons, etc.), and yet they manage to forward the crap mail that I definitely don't want (that stupid AAA magazine, a Christmas card addressed to me and my ex-boyfriend, etc.).

It's indicative of how fucked up and perverse the universe is, and it makes me want to beat my head against the wall until both have very large dents in them.

Sometimes I don't know why I even bother to go home

I just got into work, and I have this funny feeling that I was sitting in my office, in this very chair, not too long ago. Like, oh, 12 hours ago...but that can't be right, can it? Surely I wasn't here after 9 PM last night.

Wait, no, that's right. It's all coming back to me now. In fact, in the past 24 hours I've been at work more than I've been away from it. Staring at this computer screen, power walking between my office and the printer room, flipping through page after page of my latest 4-color fussy cranky overly designed baby. Clickety-click-click, tappety-type-type, rush-rush-rush.

I need a motherfucking vacation.

Blargh

The word of the day is agita.

I think I need to go buy me a big bottle of Tums.

Meh

I feel crummy. I feel phlegmy. I feel lonely. I feel puffy. I feel wheezy. I feel woozy. I feel underprepared. I feel overwhelmed.

I feel like this is not my year. I hope the next one will be better.

Sturm und Drang

This space has become a bit too angst-saturated. I'm starting to feel like a 13-year-old, and going through that phase of my life once was quite enough, thank you. And angsty musings are like eating waxy, cheap chocolates: tempting because, you know, it's chocolate, yet ultimately unsatisfying and pukey. OK, not the best analogy, but what I'm saying is that spewing my petty unhappinesses out through the Internet is not making me feel much better. Though I suppose it's bound to happen sometimes, if that's what's filling my head at the moment.

I write this for myself, first and foremost, though having an audience (as tiny as it may be) helps to keep me going. Knowing that other people are watching this space nudges me to write, even when I feel like I have nothing to say. I'd prefer to fill this space more creatively, more wittily, more interestingly, but I guess that's not possible every day. Like me, it's a work in progress. Sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's aggravating, sometimes amusing, sometimes embarrassing, but it's always something. At least it's something.

We're all in the same boat, and we've lost the fucking paddles

I feel a little neurotic. I feel a little lost. I feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing half the time, like a floundering, floppy flounder that's been wrenched out of the sea. Flop. flop.

I feel like I'm the only person I know (or see walking down the street) who's single. I feel like I'm the only person with my level of education and intellect and all-around advantages who doesn't have my act together. I feel excruciatingly guilty for whining and moaning about crap like this when other people have real problems. Waah. waah.

I feel like I'm the only one who feels like I feel. But that can't be true, right? Right?

Respite

Taking the day off from work yesterday was a very good idea. I mean, I have a bunch of crap to catch up with today, but I really needed that break. I haven't been able to relax or sleep well for so long now, and it's taken its toll on my body and mind. It was nice to just sit and watch movies and snooze and hang out with my friends and not worry about anything for a little while. It would have been even nicer to take the whole week off and recuperate, but a short respite was better than nothing.

I feel a lot better today, and it's nice to know that I can feel better, and that I'm not doomed to nervous, flustered, tension-filled crapitude for the rest of my life.

Apartment purgatory

I moved this weekend. Well, I moved my stuff this weekend--I can't actually sleep there for a few more days, because...well, stupid story that I've told too many times already. Anyway, it actually went fairly smoothly and didn't take much time, especially since I had help from my dad and two friends. And those same friends are letting me stay with them until my new bedroom is available, so everything is OK. I don't have to sleep in my car or anything. But still, I hate being in apartment purgatory. I feel so unsettled, and all I do is think about unpacking my stuff and setting things up and on and on etc., but I can't actually do anything about it. It's very frustrating. And I also have a few things at my old apartment, things that didn't make sense to move over and dump in the dining room for a few days, so I still have ties to that place. Which is not ideal.

Today I'm taking the day off, so I can relax and not have to do anything, except maybe take a nap this afternoon. I'm exhausted. I realized yesterday that I don't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. It's been at least a month. And I feel like crap. Spacy, tongue-tied, can't-focus-for-shit crap.

Maybe September will be better than August.

Sleeping giants

I sleep so much. To bed at 10, up at 7. And in between, dogs barking, dreams of screeching brakes and angry voices that startle me awake and leave me gasping, leg gone numb and dead-feeling. Through the night, I can feel my frowning forehead and mouth clenched as if fighting off rictus, and then I wake.

My body moves through its preparations for the day, creaking a bit, and then stiffened, head swimming. Relax, relax. I try to relax. But my muscles are locked in a pattern I can't quite break. Maybe tomorrow. I have to go to work now, get things done, though all I want to do is lie on my bed and stare into space, and try to let my body soften. Instead, I sit in my office and try to look busy and rub my eyes to keep away the tears that drip every so often.

Some days you eat the bear, and some days the bear eats you.

When it rains...

It's so true: when it rains, it pours.

(I know that's a stupid ad slogan for Morton salt, but I'm talking about the more general, aphoristic meaning here.)

It just seems that when bad things happen, a lot of bad things happen all at once. Like disease clusters. I suppose that this phenomenon has something to do with perception--like, when something bad happens, you're more attuned to other bad things--but it can't all be perception. I mean, the bad things are real, they're really happening in quick succession, and there's no question that they're bad things. Sometimes it's a ripple or snowball effect, but sometimes the bad things are completely unrelated.

Like when my aunt, uncle, and grandmother all died in the space of less than a year. When my dog died, my relationship fell to pieces, and then I fell to pieces. And like this weekend, when I got very clear signals that someone I like definitely doesn't like me "that way" (not awful, I'm pretty much over it already, but still, upsetting), a good friend's mother died (definitely, completely awful), and my sister's dog is in the hospital and the prognosis is not good (also terrible).

I suppose that things can happen the other way around, too: good things can happen in clusters and in quick succession. And similarly, perception and a snowball effect are also at work there. I guess I just don't see this inverse theory at work nearly as often, which is a shame.

Moving. Again.

I moved pretty recently, back in February. I really, really hate moving, but I'm going to be doing it again in about 3 weeks. I've had some difficulties with my current roommate, and the new place is closer to work and the T and the grocery store and the gym, and it's nicer and bigger and all that. So, moving will be a good thing. But, still, I hate moving. HATE.

I've been in Boston for almost 10 years now. I've lived in Brookline, Back Bay, Brighton, Medford, Somerville (3 different places so far), and Cambridge. So, when I move this time, that will be...9 moves. Nine. Jesus.

Here's hoping I won't be moving again for at least another year. I think I need to bring down my average a bit.

Pain, pain, go away

I'm not stranger to nagging, persistent pain. I've had back pain on and off for a while now--not so bad that I can't stand it, but definitely irritating. That's still around, but now it's become full-on from the top of my head down to my toes pain.

Apparently, I clench my jaw. All the time. I could probably crack walnuts between my molars at this point. I'm getting fitted for a night guard later this month, so I'm really hoping that will help because this is becoming intolerable. My neck is sore, my face feels like it's all twisted up, I can't see straight, my ears are constantly plugged up. I've been to the chiropractor, physical therapy, a neurologist...and they all say the same thing: RELAX. You just need to relax.

It's funny how something so simply said can be so overwhelmingly difficult.