Dream or Nightmare?

This morning I woke up, still asleep, thinking/feeling/knowing that I was late for work. I started to panic. My brain was all urgency and haste to prepare for work ASAP.

Then I realized I don’t have a job anymore. I’m not late for anything. My days are free of work commitments and obligations. Now I often have to look at my phone’s home screen just to remember what day of the week it is, and today is Saturday. Most people don’t work on Saturdays. I almost always did, but I was a workaholic. Most people aren’t addicted to working.

I try not to think about it too much or for too long. The pain of unemployment is still deep and physical. That thought path leads to a depression forest I can’t afford to wander in for fear of getting lost.

I stayed in bed for a long time after I realized I wasn’t in a genuine hurry to wake up. There’s no reason to pretend I’m in any rush to get on with the rest of today slash the rest of my life right now.

Rumination on Urination

Do you ever have to pee so badly that it ends up being all you’re capable of thinking about? The longer you wait, the worse it gets.

It’s almost like my whole body is saturated in the urge to pee. All that I am is one full bladder ready to empty out. The urge is all I know. The urge becomes a need. The need becomes a physical pain. 

The pain is so strong that I can barely type these words. What I’m really doing here is attempting to distract myself from the pain of needing to pee.

Where’s that fucking rest stop? Why is this road so shitty? OMFG. I’m going to die. I can’t stop fantasizing about the sweet release peeing will gift me with.

Look, I know it’s crazy, but I totally just drank some more water because I’m trying to stay hydrated and I’m sure we’re going to stop soon. Right?!? I’m an idiot. That’s what’s up. We’re never going to stop. 

Gonna shake my leg. That always helps. Pee dancing like a boss. How bad is it to pee yourself at 37 years old? It’s really not that big of a deal. I’m sure people do it all the time. All the time. Because being an adult is hard and sometimes you piss your pants. 

Can you die from holding in your pee? It feels like I’m dying. Seriously. It feels like my bladder is going to bust open piñata style inside me. Honestly, I’m ready to die now. I’ve had a good run. It’s whatever. I’m so tired of not being able to pee. I’d rather die than spend another minute in this intense, soul crushing, crippling pee pain.

Never mind all that. Here’s a bathroom. Yes. So much yes. Fuck yes. Sweet relief. Praise all the gods. It’s a great time to be alive. 

Just for you, I took a picture of the mosaic mural in the rest stop bathroom. Everything is better in Texas. Seriously. Even the bathroom art.

  

wallawalla bing bang 

   
 My aunt visits a brujo. That’s mexican spanish for witch doctor. Basically. My mom started to visit him pretty much the minute we got to Browsville. Today she took me with her to his shop. It didn’t suck. 

The shop was old and dirty, like the shop from Gremlins, except all the knickknacks had a Dia de Los Muertos vibe. Swoon. Plus, everything had the appropriate layer of grime and dust. Also, there was the perfect amount of too much incense. 

 The brujo only speaks Spanish, so I was bored the second we sat down. Then he tells my mom that I want to ask him a question, but that I don’t want to ask it in front of her, so maybe I should come back later with my aunt because I’ll need a translater to understand him. I mean, he had me at brujo. Fine. He had me at “ditch your mom.”

Here is what my aunt translated from the brujo. Minus the part where he kept insisting I tell him what I want. Minus also the part where he said I don’t know what I want because my aura is dark and I need a total of two rituals and a bath to the price tag of $420 cash monies. My aura must be pretty dirty, right? Or maybe $420 is the standard aura cleaning rate.

 Oh snap! I almost forgot to mention he sprayed my hands with some liquid in a squirt bottle and made me rub the liquid on my hair, forehead, and the back of my neck. Then he had me shuffle a tarot deck with only the major arcana. There’s other stuff but it’s boring and detailed. Anyway, here’s what she said he said:

Your financial situation is going to change, to become better. You need to kill whatever has gone wrong in your past, in order for it not to surface to your future. The past, you need to leave it behind. Do not carry it with you. It’s not luggage. If you have the past with you, you’re always going to carry a big load on you. It does not allow you to advance. If you do not close that door you will continue your life being alone, sad, and unhappy. And you do not want to be like that. 

Sometimes you close yourself to your friends, to your family. That is the only way you will stop doing that, is if you shut that door and leave it all behind, so you can prosper in your life. 

You have to put your past in a grave, in order for you to continue and prosper in the future. If you do this then you will be able to continue on. That will allow you to flourish and obtain the life you wish to have. You want to prosper, you want to continue, but you don’t know how to rid yourself of the past. 

You don’t have confidence in anyone. You doubt everyone’s feelings towards you. You’re afraid that people will laugh at you, and just use you. That is why you get into your little moods and you just just get into like a fetal position. That is your protection mechanism, to shy away from everyone, so these things will not occur to you. 

If you receive love, you shutter yourself, you close yourself in. You don’t believe. People come toward you with trust and good intentions but you doubt that trust and good intentions. All of this comes from your past because of when you gave yourself completely and you didn’t get what you needed from that love. 

You don’t know what you want. You’re blocking yourself. 

You’re a grand woman. You’re very hardworking, and you want to have your own home, everything that comes with it. But you shut yourself from that. 

You don’t care if you have to work 10, 12, 15, 20 hours as long as you have enough to provide for yourself and your child, mostly your child. 

You are a diamond. Whoever discovers you, that can pull you out of this, is going to get the lottery with you. 

I Wish I Was

I can’t shake the feeling like my heart is ripping. There is a physical weight inside my chest. I feel a sort of heavy sadness, a horrible pulling down and apart. Like pulling on a piece of taffy but instead of taffy it’s my anatomical heart representing my emotional heart and the gushing veins are my bleeding emotions. I hate when sadness is a physical pain you genuinely feel. It’s distracting and overwhelming. I’d rather be dead inside than feel the physical weight of my emotional pain. It fucking hurts, yo.

If I think about it my eyes well up with that old classic betrayal water. What is there to be sad about? Why does my heart insist that something is wrong with me? Xanax doesn’t touch this deep abyss of heart break, which is total bullshit. 

Hey Xanax, fuck you. You fucking suck. Hashtag ihateyou.

I should be riding that colorless cloud of zero fucks to give, but I’m not. I can feel my foolish and ridiculous dream dying inside me and it hurts like a stupid bitch. Because that’s what I am. Sigh. Pathetic rant pity party officially over.

Sex Book on the Beach

  Have you had a chance to read Sperm Wars? It’s sooo good. I’ve learned a butt load of information about human sexuality behaviors. Or however I should of worded that last sentence.
Dude though. Don’t read this book. Ever. It made me so baby crazy. All I want to do is have a baby. Right away. I want to get pregnant right the fuck now. I want a baby so bad, so hard, so quick. Ugh. Gross.

Babies are the worst. I’m the worst when I’m pregnant. None of this shit is a good idea. I have no money, no job prospects, and in two months I’ll have no insurance. 

Having a baby right now is the worst idea ever. Plus, I’m getting to be too old to have a baby. It’s just such a shit idea. I need it to go away and never come back.

My brain keeps removing all my mental baby barriers. Babies are adorable. Babies smell so perfect. Babies make the cutest baby sounds. Babies are covered in pinch worthy fat rolls. Babies have fuzzy soft baby hair. 

No. Babies are expensive and pointless. Well, not pointless. The only way to ensure that your genes live into at least the next generation is to have a baby. The more babies you have the better you improve the gene survival odds. Having a girl guarrantes that the offspring she has actually carry your genes. Having a boy carries the chance that his offspring might not be his. Genetically speaking.

Or what if John Henry turns out to be gay? No judgment. Love is love. He can adopt. I will still have grandchildren. But my genetic contribution to the world will end. Which I never thought about, I mean really really thought about, until I read this book.  Ugh. Stupid book. Get out of my head. Fuck off with that weak ass baby sauce.

Dopamine Got Me Like Whoa

I didn’t have to work today. Thank You to everyone everywhere who made that possible. I don’t know who you are; for that I am sorry.

I found this quote in an old Victorian decorating magazine. I was eating dinner but secretly thinking about how delicious lunch was. Dinner was a hamburger. Lunch was a doctored frozen pizza. The best frozen pizza of my entire life. If I’m being completely honest, I’m still thinking about lunch and dinner was three hours ago. I’ll be thinking about lunch for days. But I’ve been thinking about him non-stop for about a month now so maybe this is just my brain’s attempt to spice shit up.

Back to the quote. It’s beyond senseless. What the fuck does “warp and wool” even mean? How is a prospective relationship a nest? Why would a relationship never consist of “large talk?” Who would want to have a relationship with no large talk? Also, your relationship nest is going to be weak as shit if it just consists of little feathers and pieces of string. You need fucking mud and sticks to keep your relationship nest from falling apart or breaking in the damn wind blowing through the tree of your life. Plus, if your relationship nest gets jacked because you suck at large talk, it’ll end up breaking all those delicate eggs filled with your bullshit hopes and dreams. Right? But what do I know. There are zero little feathers and pieces of string in any of my relationship nests. I fucking fail at small talk. Sigh. I’m the reason why we can’t have a nice relationship nest.

 

Waiting to say I Love You

I forget that there is at the least a ten years age gap between me and the majority of my co-workers. I don’t know what being thisclose to the end feels like for them. I imagine it feels bittersweet but only in the sense that someone once described what bittersweet felt like to me. So theoretically I’m kinda capable of recognizing it when I see someone else feeling it but since I don’t know what bittersweet actually feels like I’m probably just assuming a close range shotgun wound feels the same as a butter knife stabbing. 

They made cars for 27 years. But only one part of the car. One tiny section of a whole vehicle day after day. Many of them stayed in the same group for the entire time. Some of them didn’t. No matter what their personal history was at the plant, they all did the same jobs for decades. I did it for two years, only one of those years being employed full-time. I couldn’t even do the same job in one group. If I had not of been hired as a floater I would of quit after a month. The same job. Every day. For fucking decades. No. Nope. Nah. Not uh. Fuck that.

Losing my job hurts for me so I can only pretend to imagine their individual and collective pain. They’ve been together for a long time. They spent years working hours upon hours of overtime. Many of them will tell you they spent more time with each other than they did with their families. But don’t get it twisted. They did that shit for their families. That’s what American sacrifice looks like to me. Fuck you if you don’t see it. Every day now is a count down to the end. Everyday is intense and expansive and overwhelming. Even when it’s over, the day after November 30th, it will begin all over again, real and raw and scarier than fuck.