Tuesday, November 14, 2017

man i'm having another rough day. i've been trying to sort through papers and finding a lot of intense writing from this past year. i'm kind of leaning into the feelings and doing a lot of looking back which might be dangerous but i am telling myself it's important to piece it together and process it. like if i let myself fully feel it now, now that i can actually look at the past without having a panic attack, i can just get it over with and put it to rest for good?? is that how this works ??? 

everything you are is a lie.
i've gone invisible. i'm back down the well, i'm going all the way.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

what a mess what a mess what a mess. skipped out on being social again. didn't go to yoga. bligh. just feeling awful. on purpose?? can't be good to stay in and watch sexist tv. starting to feel so stuck so stuck. but also some wild thing in my brain is screaming "it's just that you're a visionary!" that's gotta be it. why i can't seem to find words for any of my thought processes or explain what is wrong with everything to my dad. i come off as "disdainful" mama says. i'm paralyzed by judgment - of myself so i can't do anything and of everything else so it's overwhelming and defeating. how do i kill it ???

i want to make myself a schedule and stick to it, as dorky as that sounds. i really think the ADD hyper focus thing is real.

why is there a car idling in the middle of the road right across from me here on my porch? you are not my uber. you aren't for anyone. sounds like a door slamming and it drives away slow. am i paranoid or ???? maybe less so after the incident with kat a month ago, where in my driveway the man banged on her window and demanded a ride or else he was gonna get shot. my paranoia made me say no. we drove around for half an hour and then she sat and wouldn't leave me until 4am just in case.

my left breast has been hurting bad all day. it's been tender all week. is it just a weird period or something else? googling this shit doesn't help.

i'm pretending again that i'm cutting down with smokes but i'm kidding myself. i have a few good days then some event excuses me.

roll herbal smokes goddammit
work on the papers

lord so many other things on this list i can't remember. where the fuck do the days go ??????

last night i stayed up too late angry and drinking and finally wrote that call out about gratz on halloween. today i had to wake up at 9am bc apparently i'm slow as business at doing anything so midday dog visits on five hours of sleep. i felt hungover and grouchy but i still sang to them. i got home at 1245 intending to nap but i read chris mccoy's write up in the flyer and my energy was restored. spent the rest of the day trying to figure out the wordpress mess i made of the concrete website and whether it's fixable before finally dad stopped it with pizza and netflix. what a grouch i am. but it's still true that steven universe is the only show on tv worth anything. except adventure time. okay.

mama was ridiculous today, probably not on purpose. cracking me up all over the place. my number one clown mentor for sure.

gotta read that clown book
guided mediation and that other body stuff

make a fuxking schedule that includes reading time
i can't stand this nothing nonsense

Friday, November 10, 2017

rage share

i went to my favorite cozy dive bar on halloween bc i didn't feel like being around a ton of people (still in recovery and feeling social anxiety constantly lately) and we were having a great time in the practically empty bar. after a while a bunch of folks showed up after a concert ended, the vibe in the bar changed a little but it was still chill, singing with the jukebox and making fun of horror movies on tv. then the door swung upon and i heard a voice i hadn't heard in years... i tried to convince myself it was someone else. i looked my bff in the eyes and said "please tell me this is not happening" but it didn't click instantly for them. it wasn't until the dude sat behind my friend at the bar next to us that they realized it was the person we used to know so well, who dated and cheated on more than one of my best friends, who violated my consent over 10 years ago, whose friends and crushes stay the same age as he gets older, who is now apparently happily married and childrened. oh lovely. i could leave, but i will not let this person ruin my good time. i continue to clown and laugh and make merry. it's halloween and the veil is thin and i'm feeling good. suddenly a hand on my shoulder, a towering oppressive presence which is DUDE, pushing himself between me and my buddy, with, "i know we aren't really friends anymore, but i just wanted to say happy halloween" or some shit. the words become fuzzy in my mind as i try to comprehend what is happening. autopilot kicks in and i'm clinking beers "happy halloween!" attempting to smile, not making eye contact, just hoping he will go away, which he finally does. but he's still there at the bar behind my friend (and mind you, this a tiny fuxking bar the size and shape of a hallway) so i can see when he glances at us and whispers to his date, and when he's surrounded by so many young friends in his crossdress costume. whatever. i don't know this person anymore. he could be anything. i tell loud jokes to the tv and make a fan at the other end of the bar. the night skips on in stops and starts. some moments i'm fine, i'm glorious, and others i'm staring into the ash tray, begging my friend, "please talk to me, just say anything" trying not to fall into the abyss i'm dancing the edge of. staying is dangerous territory. when the night is near done, me and my bud are counting our quarters and trying to remember how many beers we had, when the bartender says "oh don't worry about it." we don't know what to do but stare at him. what do you mean? "oh DUDE just paid for your beers, don't worry about it." i don't know what to say or where to look. my friend starts to try to argue but i think i must've told them not to worry about it bc i didn't want to draw more attention to ourselves. i'm just blank, gone. i can still feel DUDE in the room. i know i'm being weird. to leave would mean walking right past him. plus i'm still finishing this beer. it feels like forever, we're all just sitting at the bar in silence. some part of my brain is telling me, "just smile, just say thank you" to cut the tension, but i know that would be a lie and i resist the urge to "make things nice." finally finally finally his date comes out of the bathroom and they leave. IMMEDIATELY the bartender asks "what was that?!?" like we've done something wrong. this is a hard question. i'm still shaken up. i start about how i don't know him now but many people had issues in the past, and i'm interrupted. "you know, the way i see it, if it's been over a year, unless it's rape or murder, there's no reason to be upset anymore." i'm turned into a blustering fool trying to validate my reasons. i reiterate that i don't know what dude is doing now and maybe he's way cool BUT he has violated the consent of many women i know, myself included, and never taken accountability for it. the bartender keeps pushing me to be specific, tell him more because it's "his bar" and he has to "keep people safe" and therefore i "have to tell" him what happened. this is a lot. this is so much. each time i start a sentence, he interrupts me. i tell him i'm speaking slowly because this is hard but he keeps interrupting me, "just tell me!" and i finally crack. i can't take it. i am present enough to say something like "i really shouldn't have to say this but apparently you won't believe me unless i tell you that i was recently diagnosed with PTSD bc of shit he did to me even though i've told you he hurt me and my friends in the past and no i don't know what he's about now so i'm not saying you need to kick him out of the bar forever, so i don't know what more you need to know." and i get some response like "see that's all i was asking for" like it was so easy and i only made it harder on myself. it gets pretty fuzzy. i feel like hell. i get home and keep drinking not to think. i feel like i can't ever go back there. i am afraid to go out at all anymore, either bc i will run into the DUDE and also bc it feels like people are so unsupportive of survivors. blahhhh. do yall have suggestions for how you handle these kinds of encounters and feelings?

Monday, November 06, 2017

a text after four months of nothing

"I've barely scratched the surface of how you must have felt and I feel like giving up."

oh good.
go for it.
you have no idea.
you don't want to know.
i don't believe you.
i don't believe you.
i don't believe you.

giving up on understanding? i thought you already had.

giving up on everything? what's that got to do with me?
first of all, i know it isn't true. second of all, you already claimed this with your last faux guilty message four months ago. "i don't deserve friends. i'm gonna be alone." bullshit. i sometimes wonder how you (or anyone) is capable of flinging so much bullshit. you'll say whatever you need to get your way. you're barely passing as human.
don't you think i've caught on by now? don't you see that the veil was lifted, burned?

why do you suddenly need to feel absolved? why on earth would you pretend to care now? your actions proved that you never did. you knew i went to the loony bin and you never checked in. you don't fucking care and you never did.

what do you want from me?
what the fuck do you want?

you will get exactly what you deserve.

Sunday, October 22, 2017

paper piles

I'm deep cleaning my old room again and I've gotten to the hardest part -- the papers. Years of artifacts have collected into bags and baskets and piles around the room. I try to sort through them - I tell myself to keep it simple this time - but before I know it, the piles are multiplying (as Brett would say).

1) Trash, 2) Recycling (for the curb), 3 Recycling (for at-home paper making), 4) notes and drawings from friends, 5) personal writing, 6) receipts/ephemera, 7) programs and brochures, 8) stickers, 9) collage supplies, 10) fortune cookie fortunes, 11) WILAC movie detritis, 12) Thigns That Might Look Cool Photocopied, and 13) Things I've Had So Long I Should Probably Keep Them.

I debate whether to have a new pile dedicated specifically to Mental Health. The piles will become files. I'm simply cataloging. I tell myself this to release the lump i my throat from old love notes. I carefully unfold each scrap, read each receipt looking for a way to weigh these papers against the one where a man who assaulted me had written his phone number (how I had forgotten), and a pink pamphlet from 2006 - Understanding Your Anxiety - in which some forgotten counselor had circled "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder." Before my mind can spiral into the HOW? and ALREADY? and WHO DID THIS? I laugh and lay it down, there's another mystery waiting its turn.


Thousands of papers. Hundreds of scraps. They begged me for a home.


For years, for miles, I've carried them. It's not easy to let go.


Moshe C----- I had forgotten you entirely.


It's comforting to remember that forgetting is possible. Maybe not the best revenge, but still it's a healing thought.



I had forgotten you until I read your name on the page, some venue, some date, your number.



I would never have remembered you if I hadn't read your name on this page. It's hard to write this and I'm trying to find rhymes in it as a way to dissociate.

It doesn't hurt as much if you make it a game.
Now the paper's in the trash and I'll never think of you again.


The moment is hard enough. The writing is harder. Or I tell myself that as an excuse to have a cup of wine.

I'm going to start drinking less - I'm already working on it - but specifically to stop using alcohol as a coping mechanism. I say it will help me process (I think sometimes it does) but really I'm just cloudy and lost.





Mama asks and I have to tell her, yes I finally got diagnosed at the Athena Project. Han said she'd write it up for me, and I can pick it up next week, but basically they think I have PTSD, general anxiety, social anxiety, depression, and some alcohol dependence. Mama says, "It all makes sense to me ecept the PTSD. Is that from the breakup?" I know she doesn't mean to cut me but she does. "Well no it's from earlier stuff in that relationship mostly..." I'm flailing. "Mostly? What else do they think it's from?" I can't place her tone exactly, but it feels interrogative and intense, like I will never have the right answer. "Stuff from a long time ago. I dont' really want to talk about it." She lets it go. Hours later I'm wondering if I missed an opportunity to connect - I've never understood why we are so distant from each other, why it's so hard for me to be open and vulnerable with her. (It's hard for me to be vulnerable at all, in a real way, in person.)

I wonder why she's never told me about her own trauma, why I only know about it in such vague terms from an unsent letter, and finally got more information from Morgan last year. Is it that she thinks she's told me already? She does that with lots of other things. Or is she purposefully not telling me? Or is she just not ready or available to talk about it with me? Was she trying to get to that place by talking today? If that's the case I don't understand why I feel so judged, misunderstood, scrutinized for my feelings, my diagnosis, my experience. Or is that just how all mamas are?


She told me recently that my first grade teacher told ehr she was "too intense" (is this right? or was there another descriptor?) and that's why I was afraid to talk in class. She said she cried so much and felt so guilty.
When I was in second grade she started having panic attacks.



I'm sorry, Mama. If I had been better they wouldn't have blamed you and you might not have felt so bad about yourself. (I know you feel bad and you hide it, like me.) But it can't have been your fault. As early as preschool I was judged, laughed at, and ostracized. I wish I could remember why, but I know it wasn't because of you.


I wish I could remember why you had to give me my first safe word (but I already wrote about that.)


Why sometimes do I have to have my hand held, when I can't stand it when people don't fill in context clues and ask constant questions? I guess I think save them! There are bigger questions! Like how do I fix this hole in my ceiling?

Friday, August 25, 2017

the problem where it's in my head so it's already true. being bored with everything. nothing being good enough. i see it with clarity how it could be better, should be. so why am i not doing it?

but how can i do it alone ?????
everything i want is dependent on others. i thought maybe i could make it work here but clearly i can't. this has been the problem all along. i couldn't find the support among my friends, so i sought it externally and i crashed + burned. dependent and dead.

i thought i had some good ideas over the last couple days. i was so fired up. i needed anyone to fuel the flames. all responses (except rex my love) were lukewarm. i was shattered. i broke apart. i became again dumb, useless, unimaginative, incapable, etc forever. i don't know what's true. i don't know what's real. i'm so busted apart with self doubt and dissociation that i don't know even about reality.
i want to talk about it but i'm a pretend artist working without a practice. my mode has been to instigate others or to glom on later. i have no solo. i have no way to know. i consider being alone in my bedroom trying to "work" and i throw up in my mouth, i can't eat for hours. (do i eat at all?) it's as if i'm supposed to have seen everything already but actually not, oh it's better if you don't, just be yourself. it's as if i am supposed to know how to funnel this brain crash through a gold pan and discover my own secret brilliance, eventually. elsewise i guess i'd better sell my (l)eggs to go to school and have them tell me how to be. i'm at a loss. i'm done for. i want to move to a new town and die. i want to disappear or explode.

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Tuesday, July 11, 2017

LIST OF DEMANDS

  • always pen + paper
  • only clothes with pockets
  • good art, better art

Sunday, July 09, 2017

hex

I cut the cord. I take back everything I've ever given you. My time, my energy, my love, all of it is flowing out of you and back to me. I give myself these gifts. I deserve my own kindness. I have the power to heal.
You have none of me. You will feel cold and alone. You will find yourself left with nothing until you do the work of healing. Your silver tongue will turn to stone. You will get exactly what you deserve.

Tuesday, May 23, 2017

(sloppy words found on an envelope, some time during or after clown class, spring 2017)

i always stand there thinking I COULD DO THAT so why not?
it must take a massive leap. no more pretending to be REAL, no more faking.
i'm tired of being the Responsible one. ugh

kiss them up dearest touching (????)
kiss face to wind to sip or spin
kick up the dirt that isn't dancing

if i can't go now, i never will go
if i can't know (?) now, who will fucking tell me?
no one will mourn nor remember you
it's already too late

oh to write the things that think
before the thoughts are formed
BUT how to be so quick?!




somehow all this bland shit is just
pressing the pause button
in between what is surely
the greatest show on earth or ???
I'm craving (?) to get out of
this version of myself.
NOTHING I WANT is allowed.
is that me? or is that just
totally pathetic. i'm tired
of feeling totally pathetic.
i want it all to be a rush (?????)

i have a lot of work to do.
realize these notes will never be read.
even you will not read them.
become as indecipherable as possible.
you are not made to last.

i want to make everyone believe in magic
that is hard + true + dissonant.
i want to be bugs + dirt + children +
death. how can we bring it.
it's not here in this place with these people.
you didn't find the thing you thought.
it's not your fault. you had to try.
it's not a place, it's a feeling + a purpose. you
know that. you can't rely on a new location.
how is it that you feel more bright and
alive now that nothing is real, no one is
awake, and you've got four drinks inside?
not even blurry silly, just convinced. This is
not the hovel you're looking for. the right
answer is not gonna come in a flask. there
is no right answer. but you have to kill the
feeling that something is wrong + find out

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

today

gojis had so many buds, including some of the new implants. 
also pruned them and the grapes and wlberberries. griff is great. tarryn brought biscuits with amish butter. 
meanwhile thursday sent messages from afar that sent me spinning. where do we go?
farm alliance meeting was awkward. i'm just not the same as these people. even before the third beer. bff isolated itself a little but mike was cute and outgoing. 
i started feeling really sad about my grandparents and the ways i've failed them - their expectations as well as my own. i should have collected more stories, memories, sayings. i hear myself trying to say their words and it just hurts. 
told katherine that i want to be funny (again) and how i miss her (again) and that i've been thinking of stupid fake stand up jokes when i wake up in the morning. she wants to hear them for some reason.  but i'm not sure if they're translatable without the laugh track and funny faces.  
i started getting really sad and crying because i don't belong here, as much as i try. nobody saw it. i'm a great actor. i bought a pack of cigarettes to help me handle it. i bought a whisky ginger to help me handle it. i said "can i get... a.. um..." and he said "'may i'? that mught help." i must've given him a look but he brought out a menu anyway. i explained that we'd had a misunderstanding. i thought he was in teacher mode telling me to use 'may' instead of 'can't' but you can't explain the joke after it's happened. at any rate he didn't charge me for the drink. he was cute and young (dani type) and i think he was trying to convince coworkers to come to karaoke at the crown after shift. 
but after that i still went to the bathroom and cried because i'm missing all the things i care about. i don't know how to talk about it. i'm depressed that my therapist stopped contacting me. i'm depressed that i'm surrounded by farmers and i don't share their knowledge- how much do i want to? i'm depressed by all the books i haven't read and jokes i haven't said. i bought smokes. i told morgan at christmas that i smoke because i hate myself and she made me vow to quit. i was doing okay but i haven't stopped the hate. what is the source? i've explained that i feel less depressed when i'm busy and doing things and have lots of projects- then comes anxiety but it's different problems. i'm still avoiding the root of the problem. i'm still in hate with me. and having urges that i can't fulfill, thinking of writing or joking or whatever. thinking of myself in some other schemes but there's no time to dream with all of these other plans on my head. whose plan? whose dream? where do i fit? nathalie told me to see this pattern. i don't need to go where o think i can help. my help is not the solution. how fuxking selfish even am i?? the neediness of feeling other. the demand to be understood. the feeling of never holding anything. 
they've replaced our old streetlight. it was yellow and faulty and perfect. now we have a constant white dawn over everything, to prevent breakins i expect. the light is cold and familiar and unchanging. i sleep with the blanket over my head. 
i miss my cat. dear gods i miss her more than anything. how i have failed. 

Saturday, October 15, 2016

someone pinched my neck. thought it was you, wrong. bartender laughed at how disoriented I was.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

you can see the shape of the fist in the wall 
and the twist of your wrist in my hair that's your call 
how can I not respond 
how can I not try to touch you 
when all you want is the silence of the highway jump 
when all you want is no response 
when all you want is get the fuck off
after the pulling pushing difference 

I have to remind you it's a meeting 
the door is open 
how you shove and show 




you can see the fists that you fit between the frames that we fixed on this old dirty name 
what could we have done 
how do we stop it 

donotdie
do not die 
donut die 

(( why can't you write 
why does everything feel permanent when it's typed 
why can't you say here ! it is ! I called it now ! and how ! 
it's time to die and die and die ))


it kills that sound and you can't with that sound and you can't begin 

how they sit and try but it's pretend 

Thursday, August 04, 2016

travel dream

impossible spaces/portals like subway platforms, train stations, airports, a pointed tower and a sometimes bar in the middle of the ocean

family is flying away to Japan with all the little dogs In a bag. irie hops out at the gate and poops on the floor. jangly and colorful.
is this where I run into emy? she will become my sidekick through the travels
I think we're even playing Pokemon?!

I know we end up at this impossible bar in the middle of the ocean that only sometimes exists. we drink to get drunk and somehow make it home (a water train??) where we proceed to make out in the bushes. a lot. super hot. this part is a real blur but not a short one.
I think even there's more... I remember a diner where emy is blurring into Bekka.

later I realize I left something at the bar and I'm trying to get back. I'm trying to find Thursday but his phone goes straight to voicemail. I'm standing on a tiny open platform, atop a tall tower, in the middle of the ocean. I have a card in my hand and I open it. it's blue with bubbly wavy letters. at the bottom you can scroll through different music options (classical, soothing) which are paired with different flowers. I play with this for a moment before I realize this is some sort of death letter. an official notice from his employers (military??) that thursday is drowned and gone. I refuse to believe it. surely he just dropped his phone in the ocean and that's why I can't find him. why no one can find him. I'm not giving up.

I get a phone call and now in my head it sounds like mike's voice but I think it was supposed to be emy. or maybe mike is relaying the message for her?? I'm asking how I can see her, contact info or something. I hear him saying "too indie" and I start to spell it back, oh this is her email address? you're saying i-n-d-I-E? "no you are too Indy, I-n-d-y." I'm crushed.

back to business or this may be another dream after the car woke me up. thursday? someone drinks my sun tea prematurely. I was making plain and some other weird infusion thing that was gonna mix in. I'm frustrated.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

thursday dream

wandering around some huge downtown. offered a free meal, it's this huge media blitz, ads everywhere and staff with matching t shirts and smiles pushing paper to everyone on the street. but why not? we have to go through a series of "interactive challenges" to get to the food. for one, we enter a room where the door is blocked by an undulating human chain of smiley staffers. in order to pass you have to wriggle under arms or squeeze through an ever changing gap between two sections of bodies. it's not comfortable. it's meant to be "engaging" but it's just embarrassing.
there are not very many people here and the ones participating are all young & affluent. I try to imagine an actually needy/hungry person here and it seems impossible.

did we ever get the free food? I hope so, after all that.

I remember being in a long line and we were just a couple people behind your ex (who was actually Regina). you did not want her to spot us. her portion of the line got on an elevator and you made sure we weren't on it. what's so scary, I wonder?

we're in some sort of museum when i find my vibrator in my pocket and you find it quite amusing. of course you turn it on and embarrass me with the noise. it gets stuck and I have to unscrew the cap to make it stop.

we run into Marti from work, and her daughter, who want to sit down and chat. we are on a roof looking over onto a falls. there are stone circle table and stools at the corners of the roof, hanging out over the edge. I step carefully out from step to step, terrified of the drop. but Marti's young daughter barrels out and I realize there is a platform below the stone steps as well. of course there is, I think, they wouldn't want people sitting anywhere dangerous. we talk and when I turn around again I realize we aren't on a roof at all, but solid ground. perception

we are tagging along with some crowd, some friends maybe you ran into. I don't mind until I hear you making plans without me. it's not that I don't want to go swimming at twin oaks this afternoon, but that you commit without checking in. maybe this is just my pride, a clutching at still having sovereignty over myself. whatever it is I still want to go swimming.


lots more but I forget. 

Monday, July 04, 2016

I don't know how to be in a relationship in which I am consistently questioned, mistrusted. 
I don't want to be constantly on the defensive. 
earlier tonight you knelt down to look me in the eye, to say you would take care of me, and I believed it so fully, I thought, has anyone ever loved me this much? wanted to take care of me so fully and earnestly? 
but then you got distracted, it's okay, so do I. and then instead of finding promised food, you questioned my fidelity, all over an empty jam jar. how can I possibly respond?? if you can't trust my actions OR my words, where does that leave me?
I've told you: I want you. I love you. you're sexy. I'm not interested in anyone else. I'm not seeking anyone's attention but yours. you're so good at just being you, you don't have to be anything else. 
I just spend the last 30 hours rescuing you from south Virginia. I don't know how else to prove any of it. I'm exhausted. 

is it the alcohol? what makes your brain go there? I wish you would believe me but maybe you can't and if that's the case maybe you don't need me in your life in this capacity. I'm not done, but I'm done with either of us feeling so bad.

Sunday, July 03, 2016

incomplete dream

bff was a huge maze of a house and grounds 

Gracie Lou got outside twice and a snow leopard?? was after her 
the first time I got her back easy 

later the second time she had blood on her face and the beast tackled me 
but it had hands not paws and its  shape was all wrong 

 it turned out to be a person, no one I know in real life, very pale & fair, frizzy orange hair. kept referring to meeting me before 

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Sunday, June 19, 2016

worst morning

  • cat food on the people plates 
  • someone drank my beer 
  • people tried to change meeting to 7 
  • deuce tells me that unexpected visitor is about to arrive 
  • new can of oogles 
  • cats in the warehouse 
  • Ken doesn't take responsibility when I question oogles in kitchen re: cats
  • later cats are still there. Ken did not talk to them as promised so I have to. 
  • thursday says some anti feminist shit 
  • my room is full of flies 
  • bes brings piglet info pickle house and panics Gracie Lou 
  • dan didn't put gas in my car or tell me that the window is fuxked up 
  • rushing to go to work
  • getting gas takes forever 
  • it's hot as fuck 
  • what am I doing here 
  • where do I belong

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

library life

after a weekend of cooking my brain and losing my mind and crushing my body, i was terrified and panicked to start my new job. even at the library! even though i should've felt perfect, i was in a panic after not having had a "real" job for years (ever??)

last night i could hardly sleep, and when i did, i was woken up over and over by my nightmares -- sexual violence and terror and mundane garbage. in the last dream, around 6am, i had to get to work but i was stuck in south boston with thursday and time kept moving and we kept not catching each other to come back to baltimore.

but despite the lack of sleep, i felt motivated and capable all morning. in the shower, i realized i'd been humming "polly, put your kettle on," my literal get-it-done theme song back in austin. i knew i could do it all! i immediately put on some coffee, put together my outfit, and put my diva cup in a pot to boil WHICH I HAVEN'T USED IN A YEAR because i haven't cleaned it. what!!!!

i left the house an hour before my shift to pop into artifact for an egg-cheese-mushroom muffin and, let's face it, a soy latte. despite being there much longer than anticipated, i didn't feel too rushed on the half-hour commute and even though i'd never been there, i didn't feel too stressed about driving across baltimore. these skinny bumpy streets confuse me but somehow i'm learning just by being a passenger. my learning style is observation sponge, and even i don't know it's working till way down the road.



SO. revelations:

  • libraries are always going to be comfortable, no matter what.
  • librarians are awkward turtles and i don't have to be scared of them.
  • i thrive in a service position!
  • i love to help people!
  • helping people makes me love people!
  • i am capable of being confident!
  • i believe i can accomplish things that regular people can. (fix my car, fix my life.)
  • i believe i can still retain my sense of self and my weirdness while working a "normal" job.
  • i think i can also stop smoking! i can! or at least cut way down.