this is so frustrating

You know what's funny? I'm so frustrated that I'm not even frustrated anymore. It's just like, okay.

Fine. Be that way.

Stupid life.

I bought a new phone. On credit. And everything was okay, because I bleeding had enough money to cover nearly the entire cost of the phone in my bank account. I was only going to have to make one more payment of about $80 and it would be paid off, and my credit score would go up, and there would be rainbows and unicorns and sh*t.

Looks like there's just sh*t.

My cat had to go and get sick, and these bloody veterinary bills are f*cking insane. So now he's at the vet and the estimate they gave me was $346. I had to leave a down payment of $150...plus I had to buy a $70 carrier on the way there because the kittens that were born yesterday are in the other one out back. I can't move them. At least this one is better because it opens from the top and is shaped like a duffel bag.

And every person that comes through this stinking door at work asks how I'm doing and I smile and say "fine," or "good," when really I just want to stare at them like a deranged zombie and gnash my teeth. How's that for imagery? That's how I feel.

Anyway, my car insurance is due, and when I've paid that, I'll only have $86 dollars left to put towards the phone.

MY LIFE.

What has it become? Why couldn't it just work out? I had it all planned out......


Good news is, at least mom's been approved for 8 hours of care, 7 days a week. And the insurance is going to allow her to keep the hospice care as well, so that'll be 12 hours of care total, except for the weekends. But that's fine.

Anyway. My boss is about to lose her head.

Later.

My mother is dying and I don't want to be around her.

That's horrible, isn't it?

I'm horrible.

For a story

It's funny the things you remember when you're about to die.

For me, it's the time I was maybe five or six, waiting for my mother to finish one of her endless conversations with the elevator security guard at the Central Library.  The library was a massive steel building, with a sprawling floor plan and sky-high spires, modeled after the one back on Earth that got destroyed in the latter half of the twentieth century.

At least that's what they tell me.

I met a boy there - he might have been my height and he might have had a name - but what I remember most was his hair. It was a sandy golden color and hung down into his eyes, and when he turned away from me there was a perfect curl that disappeared into the back of his coat. Winter doesn't last long here, but even in summer, even in the climate-controlled colonies, the air always has a chill that seeps into your bones and leaves you feeling damp and clammy. The red sand storms knock out the power to the central atmospheric system at least twice a week, anyway.

We were both waiting for our guardians by the Earth kiosk - a machine that was twice as tall as I was and showed you pictures of historic locations on the home planet. I remember giggling until our bellies were sore; there was a city on the old planet called Flushing and all we could do was mime flushing toilets for an endless amount of time.

I don't remember if he had a mother who came to get him. I don't remember if he had a mother at all.

The only thing I can focus on now is the sensation of burning heat, creeping up my arms until I think my skin is melting off, and I open my eyes.

I am on fire.

now

Sometimes I log in while I'm at work and I need to get something off my chest or just do something different for a moment.

This is one of those times.

I just need an outlet.

Anyway, so I went to the doctor on Tuesday, and it turns out I'm officially overweight. Yep. My BMI is at 25, and it should be 23. I weigh 173 lbs. Point something. Never thought that would happen. But I haven't been eating breakfast, I've been eating a ton of meat, and I was eating KFC almost every day during the months of December and January.

It's gotten to the point where my coworkers are commenting that I've gained weight. (Women. *rolls eyes*)

So I'm doing something about that. I'm going to sign up at the gym with my friend this weekend, and we're going to go every Tuesday. Speaking of Tuesdays, next Tuesday is my birthday. I'll be 27. I might go out to eat.

And speaking of going out to eat, I've decided to outsmart myself with this whole "fast food" thing. I'll limit my eating out to once a month, (starting with my birthday) and on those days, it'll be a restaurant. I've got to practice intentional living. Not just rolling with whatever gets thrown my way, or I'll just end up being the bug on the windshield.

Not okay.

I've also been snacking WAY too much, and on crackers and candy and stuff. Yeesh.

Good news is, though, that the doctor was impressed with my blood work. Apparently I'm really healthy on the inside, and she commented that I must be eating really well. Yeah, up until lately...

Anyway. I'm going to do my best to have breakfast every day, even if it's just a quick slice of that gluten-free bread that my mom can't eat for some reason. (It doesn't taste half bad)

Oh crap. I forgot my water bottle at home. Eh. I'll bring it on my lunch. And speaking of THAT...I'm going to bring carrots and snap peas and strawberries and um...stuff like that to snack on. And pears and apples and bananas. Yep. Better than oreos and gummy bears, even if those gummy bears don't have artificial colors or flavorings.

I don't know if I'll be able to work out more than once a week (to be honest, I really want to do something fun...and really active. Like parkour. Or gymnastics.) but it should help if I'm eating better, right?

Anywhoo, that's the plan. Be intentional. Go out to eat and do something nice...order healthy food and spend a night on the town once a month. I'm about to turn 27. It's time I took control of my life.

dreams of blood and ink

I had an awful dream last night. Or maybe it was this morning.

It had something to do with bombs and deaths and just...I was the only survivor, because somehow I knew it was going to happen. I hate dreams.

I haven't had a good one in a while.

I've started drawing again...it's therapeutic. It's not anything fancy, just doodles. But doing that is more fulfilling than drawing portraits, because I don't have to try to be perfect. I just go with the flow. Mostly flowers...but I'm working on a space-themed piece now.

Maybe one day I'll make it multi-dimensional and start adding in those bits that twirl and click.

For now, it's a pretty good outlet.

That's what art is supposed to be, anyway, right?