Archive for August, 2012

Published by PaintingChef on 16 Aug 2012

On the continued importance of SoapNet to my mental health.

GOD. I’m so sorry. How fucking dramatic. Have you ever had one of those weeks where you come home and it’s all you can do to take off your pants, drink the wine straight from the bottle and catch the last half hour of Veronica Mars without crying? She isn’t even sad! She’s clever!

(In unrelated news, I’ve had that damn theme song in my head for a week but only the one line that goes “We used to be friends” and so I’m walking around the house singing we used to be friends at the top of my lungs and Patrick is starting to get a complex…)

I think I’ve figured out what the problem is. My inner artist finally said ENOUGH BITCH! You have ignored me long enough and so now I am going to retaliate and take away your ability to function like a normal human being. I am going to cripple you until you acknowledge that I exist. Have fun with that. So… that happened.

Don’t get me wrong. Nothing in that last post was untrue. I’m insanely busy. Work is ridiculous. I need a vacation. It’s like Mexico never even happened. I lost 4 hours yesterday. They were the 4 hours where I should have eaten lunch which was a problem because I finally ended my inadvertent hunger strike. (Is it just me or does that sound like I take a 4 hour lunch? I promise I don’t although sometimes it takes me over an hour to eat my yogurt in the morning but that’s because I get distracted. Then it gets warm and I’m like… gross… and I either throw it away or feed it to whatever puppy happens to be here that day.)

My house is a wreck. I need to clean out my closet. There is a funny smell in the fridge. My flower bed has more weeds than flowers and also a 5 foot in diameter mushroom that I’m kind of enthralled by but you can’t see it anymore because of all the weeds. I have a mountain of jalapenos that I need to can. There is a load of white clothes in my dryer that have been there for 4 days but I’m ignoring them because they are all Patrick’s and he knows where they are and why do boys have so many socks anyway.

Is Veronica Mars on yet?

Published by PaintingChef on 07 Aug 2012

The absence of funny

I feel like I’m drowning in my own life. I have no funny. No snark. All I have is this weird ache in the pit of my stomach. I can’t sleep. I try so hard to laugh or to make someone else laugh or just to SMILE once in a damn while but I just… I’m broken somehow. Nothing has happened. No life event. No dead babies. No live babies or any decisions about whether or not to try and make a live baby. I just want to hibernate. It’s beautiful outside. It’s summer… this is my time. This is when I’m so happy. I have my garden and my puppies and my Sunday afternoons with Patrick out on the lake. I have lazy Saturday morning showers and trips to the library. I have Sunday brunch outside with friends. I have afternoons on the deck with a book. I have GOOD THINGS. So why is it suddenly not enough? What is this dull roar in my head all the time? It’s like white noise that makes my ears hurt. It’s the voices in my head telling me that I’m not doing it right and it isn’t good enough and it just isn’t enough. I don’t want to get out of bed but when I fall into bed at night, I can’t sleep.

I work all the time, my head is full of to-do lists and things that I don’t even have time to add to my lists so I know they aren’t going to get done. It’s a bunch of gobbledy-gook that isn’t even interesting and I probably brought it on myself but it overwhelms me. I can’t ask for help because it’s MY job.

This sucks. I’m so sorry. I want to be clever and tell you funny stories but I don’t even see them lately. Funny shit probably happens all the time around me. Patrick dropped his car keys in the lake last weekend. I’m sure it was hysterical but for some reason I cried about it.

Fuck. I have to go back to the doctor, don’t I?