Memory Day: The day I had my first mini-stroke.
mmm. hmm. So we were gonna go to Boston, but alas, no, the fuckers at MTV (AKA LAME TV) had her head on a platter if she disappeared today.
Soo. After freaking out about that and scrapping the $10 chinatown express bus tickets, we decided to chill in the ‘hood. Off to the diner past the mayoral funeral book signing. Oh yes, our mayor died and I am so out of the loop I didn’t realize until I saw a sign to the mayor’s wife. Oh Jersey City, what will become of you?
The day we tried to go to BASSton, we couldn’t get tickets so we decided instead to see that lame-oh movie the day after tomorrow, which was about as valuable as a dollar hamburger from Mickey D’s. Oh what a waste of cash.
I did some script clean-up and will proceed to do more this day-after the cleaning and all. I missed my student loan payment ($50) which I would have had to pay today to be on time. This means I am now instantly relegated to owing 5 grand now that I am late to fix my school credit. How’s that gonna happen, you ask? NO idea, so it probably won’t. Though a few people around me keep uttering the opposite statements of fact. Though with statements made by persons outside the situation, you have to wonder how seriously you can take those offers of assistance when the simplest solutions cannot be attained in a regular manner.
YEs yes. So I am sick of people smoking cigarettes in my apartment and making it reminiscent of a dirty ashtray. Yuck yuck.
I have decided this new program developed by my friend Sean is worthwhile and lovely. Paint an hour a day, write at least 2 or so. Not so bad when you break it down. Maybe then I can make some quick cash to run away to Cali with-or maybe significant amounts (since I am so damn talented) with an art show before I go.
Oh golly. I am menstrual madness but I am missing this HPA action (hot piece of ass) that everyone else is partaking in-oh what is a girl to do? I have taken specific measures to open the door to dating again. I am not aggressively seeking a solution wrapped up in a package complete phallus, but I am not going to be so standoffish to the public any longer. I spent some time swirled in an alternate reality thinking my ex would one day wake up and say “wow, that girl kicks ass-maybe I should call her” but alas, like most predictions, it didn’t even bother to flutter in front of my eyeballs. So, I stab it from ever happening. I have done all of my healing, quit my job, and have aggressive plans and people assisting to help me get something a little less stress-fueled, and a little more my style. That’s why being me is such a bitch-I rarely care, but when I do, it has to be ripped out of my being like a rotten tooth. Sure, there are tears, but there is always the off-chance that my reality driven concern will paint everything into its place in the picture with clean lines, and no repeats.
Actually, that is kind of funny. I have been giving my friends gentle nudges about recycling, and how ridiculous it is for people to think that they can have 1 plus years in between connections, only to return and try to ride that dark horse again. It reminds me of that movie, but they realize that the place where they broke in the relationship would happen again, and the same things that aggravated them then would of course pop up again. Reality, yes, but they realized that being alone and not being with the other sucked enough to try again.
I think recycling only happens and can work between legit breaks, or limited spaces in communication. Otherwise it is a numbed slap in the face as to why it never really worked. Some of the fuzzy blurs from the past few years have been showing up in my life as of late, even so much as trying to kiss me on the street, but I am not having any of that. Nuh uh.
Oh, and my mini-stroke. Had one, then took some thinning blood agents to knock it down before it got the best of me. The numbness only fucked me up for a little while. And I hate doctors, so forget them if they think they can get me there anything short of on my last breath.
program?
i like to think of it as :
“your new way of artistically freeing your mind”
or some bullshit like that.