each day contains a universe
Stealing a few precious moments to write while I eat the last of my chips and drink my coffee, before I return to my study hole. Sitting in what passes for the cafeteria at school on my second lunch break of the day. I need to start taking better care of myself (ie: eating more regularly). Although, heartbreak = loss of apetite = keeping my girlish figure... Today has been good, though. Free pizza and a screening of the new anti-Wal-Mart documentary hosted by the school's student democrats club. I saw a guy there who I remember from first year, who I know is a Mormon and who I, therefore, safely assume is Republican. What was he doing there? Was he a mole? Did he just want some free pizza? Can Mormon, Republicans hate Wal-Mart as much as atheist Democrats?
Anything to avoid thinking or writing about the complicated pit of my personal relationship. In the ebb and flow of confusion and emotion, I've just decided to stop trying to track anything. Memories from the past two days: she burnt her journal in the woodstove yesterday morning along w/ all the post-it love notes we'd written in the beginning of our relationship. Last night I came home and she was limping and wincing, having fallen and landed on her tailbone. She's drunk every time I see her, including waking up in the mornings.
I am not responsible for her drinking.
I think I lost the studio that I wanted. I waited too late to call the woman back so she offered it to someone else. That's ok. I'll find out in an hour if the other woman accepted. I'm formulating a perfectly good Plan B, so I'm not too invested. Meanwhile, I found somewhere to stay until my house-sitting gig begins on the 22nd. And that's a relief. I also asked for and recieved approval for a $1,000 emergency loan from the school. Thank god for rich law schools. This will help me with whatever plan works out.
Why can't CB be equally motivated to get her shit together and continue functioning in the world? (aka: Haven't I figured out what alcoholism is all about yet? It's not about getting your shit together and functioning in the world, that's for sure...)
Well, we'll see what happens next.
Anything to avoid thinking or writing about the complicated pit of my personal relationship. In the ebb and flow of confusion and emotion, I've just decided to stop trying to track anything. Memories from the past two days: she burnt her journal in the woodstove yesterday morning along w/ all the post-it love notes we'd written in the beginning of our relationship. Last night I came home and she was limping and wincing, having fallen and landed on her tailbone. She's drunk every time I see her, including waking up in the mornings.
I am not responsible for her drinking.
I think I lost the studio that I wanted. I waited too late to call the woman back so she offered it to someone else. That's ok. I'll find out in an hour if the other woman accepted. I'm formulating a perfectly good Plan B, so I'm not too invested. Meanwhile, I found somewhere to stay until my house-sitting gig begins on the 22nd. And that's a relief. I also asked for and recieved approval for a $1,000 emergency loan from the school. Thank god for rich law schools. This will help me with whatever plan works out.
Why can't CB be equally motivated to get her shit together and continue functioning in the world? (aka: Haven't I figured out what alcoholism is all about yet? It's not about getting your shit together and functioning in the world, that's for sure...)
Well, we'll see what happens next.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 4:35 PM
1 Comments:
I love the title of this post. It's how I feel a lot of the time.
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