3 posts tagged “insane”
Just when I thought I successfully pulled myself out of that depression puddle I got yanked right back in. I got a letter in the mail today from the manager of my apartments informing me I have 30 days to vacate. It was my second violation for having unauthorized occupants in my apartment.
I don't know why it didn't occur to me to put Kyle on my lease. Maybe in the back of my mind I knew he wasn't going to last. He never tried to get a job, instead spent hours upon hours playing WoW. I just dropped the ball on that one.
I didn't put my brother on the lease because he's 16 and his stay was temporary. I didn't think I needed to inform my manager that my 16 year old brother was staying with me because my mom was in jail. That sort of thing is personal, embarrassing, and just not something I felt like telling someone I hardly know.
As soon as I got the notice, I called Brooke. Looking for comfort, I got the opposite.
"Hate to sound harsh, but this is your fault."
Hey, thanks! I'm quite aware.
"Well, the only thing to do now is start making plans."
Oh, Brooke. You and your plans.
I got annoyed and hung up with her. I don't want to hear about it being my fault, about how I need to do something, about how they aren't my ticket out, or about how bad I'm stressing them out. Yea, I might be stressing them out - but I'm the one losing my home.
Everything started crashing down on me. I kept getting more angry and more sad and more crazy by the minute. I started sending Jeff texts about how bad everything is.
"I seriously give up, I can't fucking do this."
His response, "You can, you have a month to get it together. It's going to get better."
Sorry, Jeff, but you're not winning any awards for talking ME off the ledge.
"I don't have a fucking job! I don't have anywhere to go! I'm in debt as it is. I can't get a private loan because I don't have a job. Even if I get a job, I'm not going to have enough money to get an apartment. I'm fucked, why can't anyone see that?"
By this time, I'm so angry. I want to bash something in. I want to shake something, throw it down the stairs, scream at it, spit on it, and then kick it. I don't care what it is, as long as it's not living.
Then I think about driving off of the Coronado Bridge.
My stomach starts growling. I take a break from my crazy thoughts and head for the kitchen. I don't have much, but I do have garlic, red potatoes, and whole wheat bread. Awesome, I love carbs. I start chopping my potatoes and I can feel my bad mood slowly lift off my shoulders. I start cooking the food and suddenly everything is drifting away. I'm not as angry, sad, or completely defeated.
By the time I finish eating my garlic red potato sandwich (Yes, I said a garlic red potato sandwich. Fried potatoes between two slices of bread.) I don't feel like I'm going to die from this. Instead, I think about everything I can do to get out of this. Though it's not going to happen over night - it will happen. I will do whatever the parentals want me to do, regardless of how fucking gay I think it is, I'll do it.
Sometimes I feel like the people in my class don't believe that cooking is a passion of mine. Sometimes I feel like they look down on me because of it. But after tonight, I know that what they think doesn't make a difference. I know that cooking really is a passion of mine. I know it helped me get through tonight. I've never felt such fast acting relief like I did tonight. It was incredible.
Tonight was the night everything fell apart. Tomorrow will be the day I start putting it back together again.
A little while ago I was sitting on the toilet doing my thing when I glanced to my left and realized I was out of toilet paper. The problem solver that I am, I simply reached around to grab some toilet paper from under the sink. Problem solved, my lady parts were wiped clean!
Now, instead of replacing the the empty roll with the new one, I stuck the new roll back under the sink. Since that's what you do, right? Get what you need and put the rest back.
Okay.
Lately, I've been trying to start a healthier lifestyle for myself. Not just to avoid that extra junk in the trunk, but to keep myself from dipping into that weird depression puddle that I fell into a couple weeks ago. The best way to do this (at least, the best way for me) is by doing EVERYTHING in moderation. Don't deny yourself foods, just don't eat a lot of it. Don't force yourself to work out extra hard when you only want to do a light work out. I've found that not fighting with my body and cravings is the only way to get things done. Does that make sense? Oh well, moving along...
So, I was craving Ben and Jerry's Smores ice cream (if you haven't had it - GO BUY IT NOW. You will thank me) a couple of weeks ago and decided, after about an hour of arguing with myself, to just go buy some. I was good. I only ate enough to satisfy my craving. (Between you and I, I ate about a quarter of the pint. Not too shabby. heh) I put it away to save for the next craving.
The next craving came at breakfast. Heck, why not? I am an adult, I pay my own rent and bills, I deserve this sort of thing. I crawled out of bed and headed for my freezer. Open the door.
Stare.
Blink. Blink
Stare.
Okay, what happened to my ice cream? Did I eat it last night? Noo, I know I didn't eat it!
I go to my trash can just to check. Yep, not there either. WTF?
Assuming this is a sign from the health gods, I just accept the absence of my ice cream. Yea, it's weird as hell that it disappeared over night, but whatever. It's better that I don't eat it. I head for the Honey Nut Cheerios and soy milk instead. Open the fridge.
Stare.
Blink.
WTF.
Sitting there, as if completely normal, I find my ice cream. How did you get there, silly ice cream? Oh, I put you there? Great. Now I can't eat you because you will never freeze the same. You've lost your air and honestly, but not offensively, you look like mud now. No self-respecting future celebrity chef of America can be caught eating REFRIGERATED ice cream.
So, not only am I placing things in weird places, but I'm talking to my food. It's been pretty lonely in my apartment.
Oh, have I mentioned that I get completely self-consious when working out in front of my cats? I can't help it. They stare at me as if I'm some kind of moron. Like, why does she does this? We all know that this is just temporary, there's no way she can keep this sort of thing up! Working out? PUH!
While we're on the topic my cats - let me just tell you - mine are lame. All they do is eat and sleep. (That kinda sounds like me.) However, there are those rare occasions when I catch them playing and I get so excited. I want to join them! So I do! And their reaction? Well, they get up and walk away. Only looking back for a second to give me that you-think-we-like-you-but-we-totally-don't look. Thanks, guys. Thanks for making me feel like I'm back in high school again.
(Hello, male readers! In case you were wondering, I am single. And all of that proves why.)
With all of that's mentioned above, I'm still not as weird as those people trying to be the next big superhero. Psyyyyyychooossssss!
Joanna Newsom, she's not for everyone but I adore her.
Jenny Lewis, how can you not love her? She's singing with a puppet! This is one of those songs I like to sing when I'm alone.
Minus the Bear, I can't even begin to describe the love I have for this band. Their music makes me so happy, their shows are amazing, and and and! I can go on all night.
And in case you were ever wondering about my mental state of late, this made me cry. I CRIED. Like tears running down my face. It's so sad! That poor dog was SO LONELY and SO SAD for THIRTEEN YEARS.
