Something New

I have had it with my personal fucking pity party. Night after night, day after disgusting day. I sit here barely working, barely creating, barely getting by. Just sad and wasting precious moments. Too sick to deal with day to day life and living in fear. I cancel everything and when I do show I pretend that everything is fine. I am sick and tired of being alone and afraid 99% of my life. What is the fucking point. And I know I have said this before but again – I didn’t beat the shit out of Cancer to live like this.

I have had an exceptionally bad few days.  I’m not even going to discuss it because it’s so fucking lame. More blah blah I’m sad and white and no one loves me crap. Boo effin hoo. 

Today I did nothing but lay around my apartment covered in blankets and feel sorry for myself. What I should have been doing is finding other ways to get myself and my business out there to make some money. January has been terrible, and I need some funds like… now. Or my rent won’t be paid this month.

SO, I had pizza because I felt like shit, which made me feel so much worse. Then I dragged my pizza pussy down to the main street to do some errands, got a protein shake and smoked way too much pot. I came home while The Smoker ran to do some work shit and I just got mad at myself. Stop being so fat and stupid! I have such stupid American problems. Like I’m not living in some dirty third world country dying, starving and eating out of a trash can or getting raped because I’m female or something equally awful. I am a white girl, with a nice place to live and for the most part self sustaining. No baby daddy’s, no drama. I don’t have a car, but I do pretty ok otherwise. I need to get over myself.

So I did some searching around and sent some messages out to friends. I entered my work into a juried show for the first time ever. I mainly make vintage inspired jewelry. (I am an accessory designer and freelance assistant to small buisness and artists by trade.) But I have found some success this year with making handmade angel wings. Like a costume or photo prop. I found a wing themed show and entered. Then I sent a message to a friend who owns a shop and said I’d like to bring some of my stuff down to sell. We set a date for Saturday. THEN I called my friend Shy and scheduled him to come and do some work with me tomorrow. I have a little online shop aside from my accessories, where I sell my destash jewelry and craft supplies for some extra money. Shy has been helping me with that so I can focus on my main biz of creating. I have a box full of things waiting to be listed and sold that I have been too busy to deal with. Those supplies could be generating income for me. 

Then I followed all of that up by having a much needed chat with the mural artist client I have been working for that has been a bit distracted in our work together. I am glad I finally said something. That clearly needed to happen. She apologized to me and we are back on track for the most part. We also set a date for my next payment from her. I feel much better about that whole thing now.

I feel like I did something. I need to accomplish things before I snap and blow my brains out like some psycho. I know I can be better then this. I beat fucking Cancer. I can beat this too. I refuse to accept the diagnosis of bipolar or agoraphobic anymore. I know there is more to me then this.

Tomorrow’s goal – get more things made, work with Shy, and start my diabetic juice cleanse for a week to 10 days and see how I do. My goal is to continue to bring down my blood sugar and maybe lose some weight while I’m at it. The Smoker brought me a Vita Mixer and Juicer this week and his Mom sent me some vegetables to get started. I have to admit I was shocked by her gesture of support and good faith. Maybe she has some personal goals for 2014 too.

Fuck this depression shit. Tomorrow here I come!

Weeds

I am in a weird place. Somewhere in between manic momentum and panic, fear and anxiety. I have been working towards doing things that are good for me. I slid back a little over the weekend. I learned just how much a proper diet severely effects my entire system. I am diabetic. I am a Cancer survivor. My system is sensitive and somewhat delicate.

In a late celebration for the Holidays and the Ex’s brithday, The Smoker and I planned a small night out with the Ex and our friend Shy. It was fun. We went to Jake’s Way Back, an old school burger joint chain. Then to Retro Games, just as it sounds. A video game paradise for all things 1970’s to present. The Ex bought me an action figure of The Joker (insert irony here) for Christmas. Shy gave me a gift certificate to Game Stop, I gave him one to Amazon. We came back to my apartment for dessert and drinks. I had a piece of cake, a piece of pie and 4 beers. Enough to fuck me up for the rest of weekend. I have been slowly trying to drop my blood sugar back down again naturally and stay on top of eating healthy. This week has just started and I am bombing it. Lunch and dinner, not so great, not horrible, but not great.

I haven’t been sleeping well either. I failed to realize Green Tea has caffeine, I have been drinking an energy drink once in the morning as well. It’s been too much. I have only slept for 4 hours in two days. 

Weed. That’s another fucking problem. I smoke small amounts through out the day. Real small. I don’t have like a bong or bowl or anything. I have a little tiny metal bat that looks like a cigarette. Two or three hit shit. I probably smoke the equivalent of two bowls a day. Just spaced out here and there. It’s not a lot. But I feel like it is. When I smoke I always feel like I am keeping some awful secret. That if anyone knew they would be horrified.

I have been living in my current apartment for almost 4 years now. I use to smoke a LOT more. I have scaled back. A few months back my landlord complained when he came home late from a business trip. He lives across the hall and happened to come home when The Smoker decided to smoke some big crazy bowl of pot. I was in the bathroom, when I came out the whole place smelled horrible! And it wasn’t form me! I freaked because smoke was everywhere. I made him go out and buy scented candles while I aired the place out. Next day my landlord sent me a message complaining about. I said it would never happen again. This fuels my paranoia pretty much daily.

My downstairs neighbors complain about me all the time too. They have never said anything to me, or as far as I know, the landlord, but I can hear them through the floors. Or when they go outside for phone calls. (They must think it gives them privacy, but really the whole block can hear them.) I don’t know how they can smell it when I don’t smoke in the house anymore. I either go out on the back porch or hang out the back window if it’s cold. I try to be polite about it. I try and wait until everyone is at work, or it’s late at night and most folks are asleep. I am a little baffled since I don’t make a ton of noise when people are home. I turn my TV off by midnight or earlier and put head phones in if I’m up late. THEY on the other hand, drink a LOT. I constantly hear drunken fights on the weekends. I sometimes come home to open booze sitting out on the porch. (It keeps it cold.) On a regular basis it sounds like the folks below me are throwing couches during drunk time. They drive drunk, they scream and hollar and act a fool. In my mind I think to myself regularly, you drink out of control and act loud and crazy – that’s ok. I am quiet and smoke outside, and your complaint is you don’t like the smell. THE SMELL. I have to sleep with head phones in every weekend, but you can’t get yourself a Glade Plug In or something? Come on. Not to mention, I do my shit responsibly. You go out and come HOME LOADED. Driving home fucked up no matter what you’re doing, drugs, alcohol, etc. is NOT ok! 

It makes me paranoid beyond belief, I sometimes sit here at night and think about how awful I am. Everyone in this house thinks I am some loser pothead. It makes me feel like I am some pothead loser. The Smoker doesn’t understand how this could bother me so much. Who gives a shit, he says. They’re dicks too! Why do you even care what any of these people think, he says. In his head if I am paying the rent on time, what I do the rest of the time is no one’s business.

I don’t know. It gets to me. Everything gets to me. Who would I be if I didn’t have something to freak out over.

Growing pains I guess. I am trying to grow into a better person, a person who makes their dreams come true.

Tomorrow is another day.