It’s really gonna be on tomorrow
Is it bad that some of the best psychological help I have received as of late has been Blackalicious?
The kind of love only a mother could provide.
After a WONDERFUL conversation with my mother last night where she suggested I put down my dog because it’s an inconvenience, I had the most horrible nightmare filled sleep. My family was holding me prisoner, it was Christmas, they were making me do everything and being extremely cruel, telling me I am fucked up, too sensitive, and worse. Mean to the point of abuse. Even my favourite little cousin was making me cry. The ferries were canceled because of a snowstorm. I kept trying to call Jeff on the phone but when my family would catch me they would take it away. I kept forgetting his phone number… then later in another nightmare I was raped repeatedly, and not in the sexy fantasy way. In the afraid for your life way. Great sleep.
THANKS, MOM! Or rather, thanks my stupid brain that let’s insignificant things destroy me. Sigh.
Worries for a Friday.
I once had a friend. A friend who although not having spent much time together, he knew me more intimately and deeply than most people had in my life, I felt. He was wise but for so many more reasons than his age. He was so much more than a pen-pal, and was someone who I felt would always be in my life. I have not heard a word from him in months. The last paragraph I received was, “I really want to tell you what I’m doing and, more importantly hear what/how you are doing. I will write more soon. I’m thinking of you everyday.” Normally I would write this off as just one of those things… someone either being not who you thought they were, or simply someone being busy and growing distant. I just never expected this from this source, never expected to have numerous emails disappear into a black void, nothing left but to wonder. “I hope that through keeping in touch, I might be able to experience even one ray of your radiance as you continue to grow into the magnificent person you are becoming.” Yea, right. I am probably overreacting, and I am not pulling an old-fashioned guilt trip to presumably deaf ears, I am just airing one of the many concerns that I devote my life to being plagued by.
“Happiness, please reveal yourself to me. There are no chains around me yet still I am not free.” -Gregory Isaacs
My boyfriend sent that lyric to me last week. I have been thinking about this a lot lately. It seems as I have gotten older, as I have shaped my life more and more into what I want it to be, it seems to have little impact on my overrall state of happiness. By all accounts, my life is pretty great right now. What isn’t perfect is fairly easily within my power to fix. Taking an inventory of your life is interesting. Do I have right now the things that I dreamed of as a kid that I would have in my adult life? A man I love and lust after. Check. A house I can decorate as I please, listen to music in as loud as I please etc. Check. A dog, an alright paying job, the ability to eat dinner when I please, get high when I please, watch tv when I please, do everything else when I please…. the only thing missing is the social factor I imagined myself magically attaining at some point in my life. Why then, when I have all these beautiful things, do I still feel, to melodramatisize it, tortured? My brain can never be happy with what it has; It must yearn for things in the future and feel guilt and a sad fondness for things it has left behind. I always find things to be stressed over; If one source of stress is alleviated I seem to find another to replace it. I spend so much time thinking about these things that it gives me no time for a happy life. I sometimes think that no matter what I achieve in my life, what negative things I cut out, what improvements I make or chances I take, I will always find something that just doesn’t quite let me be happy. I worry I will never find peace in this lifetime. Hopefully I am just being young and naive, like when I was 15 and couldn’t get a boyfriend and so thought I was destined to be alone for the rest of my life.
New feature, Track of the Day. The Animals – Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood. There is something about the keyboard sound of this era that often gives me goosebumps.
Work stress.
I am going to be shitting my pants this weekend. You see, I took a day off earlier this week. This day happened to be the day payroll must be run. With all my absences lately, I kind of just assumed the accountant was on top of it, although there is no reason he really should be, since I didn’t mention it to him. So I processed payroll the day I got back but it said ‘Off schedule deposits may not arrive in accounts on selected payment date.’ My head is going to be on a fucking stake on Monday if people don’t get paid! I imagine everything will go just fine, they just state that as a disclaimer in case they are really behind or something… but that’s just the kind of thing I obsessively worry about. Now I have to stay up till midnight on Sunday to verify! To be prepared for just how much people may hate me on Monday morning!
I realized have a thing for Russian. It is mysterious and creepy to me.
Old pictures.
I used to be obsessed with Silent Garfield; I think I need to devote an entire other post to my favourite ones. Garfield minus Garfield is good too.
Can you tell I am going through one of my old photobucket accounts?
Night terrors.
At least I am not the only one!
This is another reason I like the pot…. it makes me sleep a lot heavier and while I may still be having the nightmares, I am far less aware of it. In the morning I do not remember my dreams, whereas sometimes normally emotional dreams can leave me feeling weird all day. It is worse since I started taking anti-depressants, I think perhaps concerns I do not think about in my conscious mind, in my daily life, work their way out at night. Better than being stressed out all day I guess!
