all these minutes I need that I spend freaking out
What a fucking morning. I need to start over, but I only have like ten minutes before I have to leave and drive around for the next three hours. Which is fine, driving is fine, the job is fine – but we woke up with like a half hour to leave this morning. Normally that’s no big deal, but I have interior appointments today, so I have to like, put on pantyhose and stuff. And I’m screaming and Buddy is being a fucking psycho freak and I’m tired and Raf snores so we haven’t been sleeping next to each other and I’m afraid ChaCha is going to die of a heart attack and I’m cranky and bloated and angry and sad and broke. I’m sitting in Starbucks (which, I have to say, makes it all worth it, to be sitting here even with ten minutes to write) and I look like dog crap and and and… and I like to start sentences with and…
I think I would rather be cracked out from getting up at 5 am and have time to write and shower and get my day together than I would like to be sleeping late, everything is just everyplace all the time (and not in a good way) and it’s a flurry of laundry and digging under the bed for my other shoe and there’s just never enough time to do it all. AND I have to come up with a topic for the meeting tonight, blech. (I wind up loving it, but going into the day I’m always like, what the fuck am I going to talk about) and here I sit complaining about my wonderful life. Really.
Driving through full-blown crackhouse burnout neighborhoods yesterday was pretty unsettling. If I have seen places like that, it’s in an environment I know (usually, the parts of New Haven that are bad enough to freak me out are places I don’t have to drive, and even if I cut through them, I’m oriented and aware) and Waterbury and all the places I have to go sometimes now are just not like that. Like, you go down a street and about 40% of the neighborhood is boarded up. Old and tired and dirty and sad and just generally disconcerting. I find myself in a panic, or maybe I’m just high strung and in a panic, but it’s all jittery and scary and it makes the demise of America that much more real. It’s like we’re Lindsay Lohan and crackhead gangfights and everything in between is starting to fade, almost like it’s a fight to keep all the in between, to keep the most important.
“Frequently overwhelmed almost into a state of paralysis”… right.
So, I’m supposed to be grateful, and then turn myself to something or someone I can help, maybe that’s just some elegant form of denial so that my head doesn’t explode from thinking and settling into too much reality… crap that’s not a good statement. I can’t even think about not thinking about that anymore.