six AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake...
title mangled from a song Tim sent me lo these many moons ago.
It's nearly 6am, I have had five bottles of beer since 2am, and all I can think about is two things:
1) the many, many nights when Tim and I would drink on camera together, because "it's not alcoholism if you don't drink alone!"
2) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
I got off work at 1:30, which is an unheard of early time for me, and directly a result of me praising a Black woman's closing technique to my manager (who was closing last night). He felt threatened, so he set out to beat the bar (which she set so impossibly high). I came home. And I started drinking.
Now it's after 6, daylight is peeking my my window, and I'm working on my 6th beer. Because I fucking love insomnia.
I realized tonight... I have no idea how to find music online. Tim was my go-to person to find any song I wanted to hear, and in these two and a half years since he's been gone, I asked Mike once (with mixed success) to find a list of songs, and other than that, my music list has essentially remained unchanged since he died.
Tim died.
I still can't wrap my mind around that.
I still cry. I'm crying now.
We used to drink together on cam because, "if you don't drink alone, it's not alcoholism!" Which was a bullshit excuse, but we used to drink together on cam. And I miss that, despite its inevitable health impacts. Despite the many pounds and inches and all the rest. I just miss him. I know he would have made my life a living hell in many ways, but FUCK YOU GOD he was my best friend and I want him back.
It's been almost 3 weeks since J asked for 2 months to figure out what he wanted. Some of those days have been okay. Some of them have been Return to Witch Depression Mountain. The latter have scared the living shit out of me. I do NOT want to go back there. Those days led me to the brink of telling him I couldn't see him anymore, that I was going back to Iowa. He asked me not to do that. I agreed.
I may need a lot bit more alcohol to get through the remainder of this time.
On the plus side, I have gotten the ball well and truly rolling to get on the rolls for state jobs. I've decided it's okay to take advantage of being Deaf in this instance, so I'm pushing to be put on the preferential hiring list due to disability.
(ugh. *drinks more beer*)
I don't hate my job, but I hate aspects of my job. Which I suppose is normal, but I really am too old to be getting home between 2-4am.
Buck came to visit last Monday and reminded me that I need to write a book about my life. He suggested a "based on a true story" format, because I told him I wasn't sure of the wisdom of writing a straight autobiography, and I sucked at fiction.
(I suck at fiction writing. I cannot hide or deny this.)
Okay. I'm shivering, which is a sure sign that my body is finally shutting the fuck up and shutting down.
Peace, all.
-G
It's nearly 6am, I have had five bottles of beer since 2am, and all I can think about is two things:
1) the many, many nights when Tim and I would drink on camera together, because "it's not alcoholism if you don't drink alone!"
2) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
I got off work at 1:30, which is an unheard of early time for me, and directly a result of me praising a Black woman's closing technique to my manager (who was closing last night). He felt threatened, so he set out to beat the bar (which she set so impossibly high). I came home. And I started drinking.
Now it's after 6, daylight is peeking my my window, and I'm working on my 6th beer. Because I fucking love insomnia.
I realized tonight... I have no idea how to find music online. Tim was my go-to person to find any song I wanted to hear, and in these two and a half years since he's been gone, I asked Mike once (with mixed success) to find a list of songs, and other than that, my music list has essentially remained unchanged since he died.
Tim died.
I still can't wrap my mind around that.
I still cry. I'm crying now.
We used to drink together on cam because, "if you don't drink alone, it's not alcoholism!" Which was a bullshit excuse, but we used to drink together on cam. And I miss that, despite its inevitable health impacts. Despite the many pounds and inches and all the rest. I just miss him. I know he would have made my life a living hell in many ways, but FUCK YOU GOD he was my best friend and I want him back.
It's been almost 3 weeks since J asked for 2 months to figure out what he wanted. Some of those days have been okay. Some of them have been Return to Witch Depression Mountain. The latter have scared the living shit out of me. I do NOT want to go back there. Those days led me to the brink of telling him I couldn't see him anymore, that I was going back to Iowa. He asked me not to do that. I agreed.
I may need a lot bit more alcohol to get through the remainder of this time.
On the plus side, I have gotten the ball well and truly rolling to get on the rolls for state jobs. I've decided it's okay to take advantage of being Deaf in this instance, so I'm pushing to be put on the preferential hiring list due to disability.
(ugh. *drinks more beer*)
I don't hate my job, but I hate aspects of my job. Which I suppose is normal, but I really am too old to be getting home between 2-4am.
Buck came to visit last Monday and reminded me that I need to write a book about my life. He suggested a "based on a true story" format, because I told him I wasn't sure of the wisdom of writing a straight autobiography, and I sucked at fiction.
(I suck at fiction writing. I cannot hide or deny this.)
Okay. I'm shivering, which is a sure sign that my body is finally shutting the fuck up and shutting down.
Peace, all.
-G