(no subject)
well, i got something done.... a lot of something, actually, altho i keep thinking there was something else. i'll find out tomorrow when my boss gets back and says "so did you do this and this," and i say "...no." because i didn't write it down, and so forgot.
if i hadn't had a pile of stuff to do i would have called in dead.
ok, i would've called a personal day and stayed in bed. because man, i am so fucking tired. this is only partly related to the fact that i went to bed late last night and then couldn't sleep, and then woke up at 6 this morning for no reason whatsoever except my body occasionally likes to fuck with me, and i guess my sleep patterns are screwy. maybe i need a better (read: newer) futon mattress, or even an adult mattress on an adult bed, who knows. a bed i can hide shit under. like all my comic boxes, that would be nice. i need a tall bed for that. my old bed, which is in my parents' house and is too big for my room. i keep thinking someday i'll have my own place, like i'll have bought a condo, and i can reclaim my four-poster and the dresser and the mirror. my parents can keep the desk. it won't fit in the bedroom and i have a bigger desk anyway. it's a really nice bed, tho. sometimes i miss it, like when my mattress gives me a crick in the neck or pushes my shoulder into a weird position in the middle of the night or wakes me up at 6 in the morning.
(i can't afford a condo where i want to live, tho. it's rent or move, and i don't want to have to live an hour away just so i can buy a two bedroom with off-street parking and a porch. my friend jodi once told me - actually she told me twice in the same conversation - i was throwing money away. i told her - twice - i couldn't afford to buy where i wanted to live, and i wasn't going to move an hour away just to buy a house, just so i could have a house. condo. whatever.)
maybe it was the birds outside. it's not like i was having a spectacularly weird dream or anything, not the kind of dream that wakes you up. i was going somewhere to visit, and my mom had helpfully packed for me, and i spent some time repacking what she'd done, and later discovered she'd packed me a nightgown (i wear pajamas, even in the summer - i need legs on my legs) but not something to wear dancing. i don't know what it means but i know where it came from, this dream about packing all the wrong clothes.
i don't want to go to amsterdam any more. well, i do, but the same way i want to go to austria or egypt or peru or the south of france - because it's there.
so tired. and tired of being tired. and tired of being me, this person in this place. tired of doing and saying (and not saying) and thinking and feeling all the things i do and say etc etc, and tired of still giving a shit about things i should let go, and not giving a shit about things that actually matter. oh, the electric bill? where is that? i have to do my taxes? those things. i want to care. i'm trying to care. i need to care about doing my job well, or doing my job at all, and i need to care about getting my car inspected before the end of the month, and making a book for a book exchange, and buying guidebooks and planning trips and being a good friend and a good daughter (it isn't my fault i haven't seen my parents in two weeks, ok), and the things i do care about, i shouldn't. if i could wake up tomorrow and not care, i'd do it. if i could turn the clock back a year i'd do that too, altho i wasn't any happier then. some things don't change.
i can't make myself be happy. i don't want to be me any more and i don't want to be here - the metaphysical/metaphorical/pickyouradjective here, not the physical here, since i like boston, and where would i go that would be better? and anyway i'd still be me - but i don't know what i can change and i don't know how.
i'm tired and i want to go home. it won't fix anything but it's all i have.
i remember searching for the perfect words....
if i hadn't had a pile of stuff to do i would have called in dead.
ok, i would've called a personal day and stayed in bed. because man, i am so fucking tired. this is only partly related to the fact that i went to bed late last night and then couldn't sleep, and then woke up at 6 this morning for no reason whatsoever except my body occasionally likes to fuck with me, and i guess my sleep patterns are screwy. maybe i need a better (read: newer) futon mattress, or even an adult mattress on an adult bed, who knows. a bed i can hide shit under. like all my comic boxes, that would be nice. i need a tall bed for that. my old bed, which is in my parents' house and is too big for my room. i keep thinking someday i'll have my own place, like i'll have bought a condo, and i can reclaim my four-poster and the dresser and the mirror. my parents can keep the desk. it won't fit in the bedroom and i have a bigger desk anyway. it's a really nice bed, tho. sometimes i miss it, like when my mattress gives me a crick in the neck or pushes my shoulder into a weird position in the middle of the night or wakes me up at 6 in the morning.
(i can't afford a condo where i want to live, tho. it's rent or move, and i don't want to have to live an hour away just so i can buy a two bedroom with off-street parking and a porch. my friend jodi once told me - actually she told me twice in the same conversation - i was throwing money away. i told her - twice - i couldn't afford to buy where i wanted to live, and i wasn't going to move an hour away just to buy a house, just so i could have a house. condo. whatever.)
maybe it was the birds outside. it's not like i was having a spectacularly weird dream or anything, not the kind of dream that wakes you up. i was going somewhere to visit, and my mom had helpfully packed for me, and i spent some time repacking what she'd done, and later discovered she'd packed me a nightgown (i wear pajamas, even in the summer - i need legs on my legs) but not something to wear dancing. i don't know what it means but i know where it came from, this dream about packing all the wrong clothes.
i don't want to go to amsterdam any more. well, i do, but the same way i want to go to austria or egypt or peru or the south of france - because it's there.
so tired. and tired of being tired. and tired of being me, this person in this place. tired of doing and saying (and not saying) and thinking and feeling all the things i do and say etc etc, and tired of still giving a shit about things i should let go, and not giving a shit about things that actually matter. oh, the electric bill? where is that? i have to do my taxes? those things. i want to care. i'm trying to care. i need to care about doing my job well, or doing my job at all, and i need to care about getting my car inspected before the end of the month, and making a book for a book exchange, and buying guidebooks and planning trips and being a good friend and a good daughter (it isn't my fault i haven't seen my parents in two weeks, ok), and the things i do care about, i shouldn't. if i could wake up tomorrow and not care, i'd do it. if i could turn the clock back a year i'd do that too, altho i wasn't any happier then. some things don't change.
i can't make myself be happy. i don't want to be me any more and i don't want to be here - the metaphysical/metaphorical/pickyouradjective here, not the physical here, since i like boston, and where would i go that would be better? and anyway i'd still be me - but i don't know what i can change and i don't know how.
i'm tired and i want to go home. it won't fix anything but it's all i have.
i remember searching for the perfect words....