living out loud

wherein i cave and ask big pharma to help.

strawberries
A happy, even-keeled day. Fresh strawberries are like manna, I swear it. Maybe if I eat enough, I’ll know The Why to things.

I don’t really have a plan for this blog entry. I just needed to write something, so it will be random, and very piece-y. Kind of like my brain:

I really think something is wrong with me, you guys. When it’s sunny, I remain kind of out of sorts…but I can deal. There feels hope in the world, like: this phase of Life I am in is really crappy, but I’m going to get through it or this thing over here makes me feel really kind of icky, but it’s going to sort itself out. I can maintain; I can do a load of laundry AND fold it. I can make my bed, clean my kitchen AND bathroom, and end the day feeling like a relatively competent parent. I mean, yesterday not only did I clean my kitchen, do laundry, and make my bed, but M and I also picked fresh strawberries and went to the supermarket where I did NOT overspend. At the end of the day, we had a lovely dinner together – with music in the background as we talked and laughed over salad and spaghetti and then enjoyed the fresh strawberries we’d picked ourselves for dessert. THIS is the kind of life I want. I can totally deal with this kind of life. There were things worrying me in the back of my head, things I’ve been grappling with for months and months and months, and I didn’t get to the folding part of the laundry but I was okay. I felt okay. And any day I end up putting my head on one of my pillows going, This day was pretty okay…thanks, Universe, is a day I want to re-live again and again and again.

But when it’s cloudy and grey or just outright rainy…lands. The resentment I feel about having to even get out of bed is staggering. I can barely get dressed (and often don’t).

What is WRONG with me??? A friend suggested maybe it’s a hormonal imbalance, but I dunno. Would hormones be that affected so much simply by weather? I mean, is there an anti-weather mood pill invented yet? I would take it. I would pay good money for it, Big Pharma, I swear I would.

Speaking of money…I had a handle on it. I was high fiving myself left and right, making plans. I was coming out on top. I was seeing a (small) summer vacation possible for Miss M and I. And then I got a traffic citation. For $300. Stupid traffic cameras. Can we all go back to riding horses now?

This month, I’ll still come out in the red, but not like I was going to. And that’s…frustrating. I vote we all go back to riding horses. Less stress on the planet’s fossil fuels, too. I highly doubt The Universe gave the planet dinosaurs JUST so a later species could use them to fly and drive places.

That’s all I want to say about that.

I am (FINALLY) watching The Walking Dead. I don’t understand the obsession with Daryl – he looks kind of like a rat to me. But I bet he’s going to turn out to be a nice bad ass rat who saves a lot of women, because he gave some of his KKK brother’s antibiotics to the black guy who left Daryl’s brother chained to the top of a roof. And I got bored and did a Daryl Dixon meme search and there’s like all these women in the world desperate to date him.

I like Rick Grimes the best right now because blue eyes and secretly he’s got a British accent. And I like the love triangle story line between Rick, his best friend, and Rick’s wife because what a complicated predicament. Everyone should just be polyamorous and get over that possessive BS.

What other random things can I throw out here?

In about 28 days, I will not do classroom teaching anymore. I will not be without stress, because this is just the nature of the beast I am in these days (and, now that I’ve done a lot of talking with people in other industries, stress appears to be the word of the game in EVERY job…what the hell, humanity?? Get it together – stop giving tax breaks to corporations that consolidate 150 jobs into 1 and ship the other jobs overseas). But I will get to go back to doing what I love to do in this part of my skill training.

I will miss this class of kids a lot; they were complete loves. Seriously, it’s the best class I’ve ever had in my entire career – sweet kids, sweet parents…what was in the water that year, somebody market it. Somebody Somewhere must care about me an awful lot, giving them to me – this was quite possibly the most emotionally stressful, upsetting year I’ve ever had to get through. Right now, I’m thinking back on all of it, and all I can see are grey, rainy days of me trying to make it step-by-step, breath-by-breath through a day, when all I wanted to do was collapse in desolate tears or rage in anger. I was dealing with learning to be a single mom, incredibly and deeply sad about the separation/ending of my marriage, worried at ridiculous levels about finances like I’ve never been before, and I had to deal with someone going off the deep end to such an extent I had to call the police. This was a really, really, really, really crappy year, you guys. The crappiest of crap. I feel like I battled in a war, constantly. Pretty sure this is how people in the Dark Ages felt…except at least I had hot/cold indoor plumbing and toilet paper. And proper dental and health care. And access to antibiotics and vaccinations. And a basic understanding in how the Cosmos actually works. And I could read. But other than that, yes: this past year felt very feral and Dark Age-y.

I am ready for a break.

I have a short story idea. While we were in Disney, I had a most upsetting dream. This happens to me a lot in hotel rooms; me sleeping in a hotel room typically results in one bizarre dream in which there is a ghost involved. So at the time, I called it a nightmare, but I’m not really sure it was exactly a nightmare; I definitely couldn’t get back to sleep after I’d had it as if it had been a nightmare. It was a whole story arc, and the details were so vivid I can STILL see some of them in my brain. I’d tell you more about the details, but the superstitious author part of me wants to keep those to myself in case somebody decides to take my dream and use it for their own storytelling purposes. I have this weird belief that dream-stories are more unique than non-dream stories. There’s a saying amongst storytellers that all stories have already been told, our job is simply to tell them in a unique and/or interesting way. But I don’t think this applies to dream stories, because dreams seem ethereal. Even the bad ones.

At any rate, the problem with me is that I get my short (or long) story ideas, I sit down to write…and then Miss M is up, demanding things. Or I’m having to listen to Miranda Sings on YouTube in the background of my life. (I am okay with Miranda Sings – she doesn’t cuss, and the adult references she does make are way over M’s head.)

When I don’t have M, it’s been cloudy or rainy…and I just wrote about how THOSE days go for me. I can barely make myself dinner, much less get off the couch once I’m home. Examples of dinners this past week: 1 frozen shrimp scampi meal…some potato chips + French onion dip…2 bottles of beer…a hamburger…and one night: nothing. (I have read this is pretty typical for single moms when their kids are not with them, plus it does save on grocery store money…but it makes me feel like I’m a hungover frat boy, and I do not want to live like a hung over frat boy, Internet.)

Where was I? Oh, yes: writing. You are supposed to do it, every day. And I typically do write every day. Just not stories. Maybe I should focus more on writing the outlines for stories first so I have a map. (I need somebody to teach me how to do story outlines.) I have not written a story from beginning to end since…the end of 2014. This is not okay, and I have vowed to change it. You know what I’d like? A Positive Life Change Pill. If Big Pharma really wants to rule the world (and I believe it does), then what they’ll do is come up with medication that will make people happy and even especially on the rainy days that also helps them make positive changes in their lives. The whole planet would operate better, I promise. I bet Atlanta would fix all its potholes, too.

(I’m being facetious, for those reading who lack sarcasm and irony genes; of course I don’t want Big Pharma running planet Earth; I want Bernie Sanders to do that. And of course I realize it’s better to make positive changes in your own life without chemical help. I’m just…I’m soul tired, you all. Way down deep.)

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