baby's black balloon

Only a few days left, and I'll be on the clear white beaches of Destin.

It's Monday and I'm here till six and I have two evals at the end of the day and then I need to go home and do the final color on my hair, which has now been through so much that it qualifies for an emotional support animal. I have to do a final clean on the house, and tomorrow Lacey and I are going to get our pedicures. She starts her new job today, and so does my sister. HURRAY! On Wednesday I have to make sure I'm all packed, and on Thursday we leave. Still unsure on whether or not we leave at 1:30 or 5, but it doesn't matter, because we're leaving this fucking state anyway. I cannot wait to put 250 miles between us and this damned city.

This weekend beat the hell out of the last one. I mostly cleaned, then took a trip to Prairieville to get some fat burning energy pills. Get all the way over there and they had stopped selling the kind I wanted. Strange little steroid boy recommended a different kind and then I celebrated the purchase of the fat burning pills by indulging in Jack in the Box. Don't judge me. They work, though. It feels like I haven't been hungry in eons.

On Sunday I hung out with Scott and Brad (who I never get to see anymore) and helped him move boxes into his new apartment. It was so fucking hot outside that it felt like my face was melting off. We went to the mall and ate and drove around listening to 90's music and went to Halloween stores trying to find a costume for Connor's Halloween party. It felt good to hang out with my two boys again, like we were still young and stupid and didn't have anything else to do but to cruise around town yelling at each other. Brad gave me some advice on selling my Instagram prints, which, if you haven't heard (and I'm sure you have) have their own site now: You Behind Everything Photography.

I'm not expecting much out of it-definitely managing my expectations. Sometimes I want to take it down but it took so fucking long to set up that I'm just like...fuck it. Whether they sell or not (and yes, I'm aware that I'm dealing in a niche market) I'm no better off than I was before. I still need to set up a Facebook Page for it, but between the trip and Satori and everything else going on with me right now, I just don't have the mental energy to spend on it. Maybe after things calm down, I might do it and also start up a Redbubble account, but my brain is fried. Brad had a few good ideas for me (he's smart at shit like that) so when things are a bit easier to deal with,I'll figure something out.

I've been doing my best to compartmentalize everything I've been feeling lately. It does not come to me naturally, so it's going to take awhile. I think there was so much going on in my brain that a gate slammed down somewhere inside and prevented everything but facts to slip by. The right side of my brain has gone into hibernation for the fall, has developed a glaze, a teflon shell, a fuck you, not happening armor. I see no other way out of my current predicament but one, and it's not one I am emotionally, physically, or financially ready to take. At the very least, the one good thing going for me is that the Other Problem, the Periscope problem, has lost some of its' oomph. Unfortunately, that problem allowed me to procrastinate on This Problem, but at least I don't have that complication anymore. In fact, the Periscope problem caused me to reflect on what kind of person I want to be, and made me think twice about my actions. Where I would have blindly jumped into another problem like it, the new Rae holds back. My heart may be hungry, but I'm putting reins on the bitch.

I've decided that I'm going to do what I always do when the right side of my brain starts smoking-I'm going to try to get back into writing. Writing (or editing what I wrote) is the equivalent of a mental worry stone for me. Of course, writing is just another way I fool myself into thinking that everything is fine, but I am perfectly okay crafting a solution out of popsicle sticks and elmer's glue if it lets me get by one more day.

I know I should do the right thing by myself and just take the plunge, but I can't. I don't even want to. In fact, it's the last thing I want. But last weekend, when everything was London Bridge is falling down, my heart started to flay. It was as if I could feel it scarring over in my chest. And now I can't afford to have it exposed again. I might slip here and there, but I'm not killing myself anymore. I don't give one dead moose's last fuck if it sounds emo, if I sound over-emotional, if I'm over-reacting. It's no longer my move.

Andddd none of you know what the fuck I'm talking about.

But that's okay, because I'm writing in this for me. No one really gives a flying fuck about how I spent my weekend, or how I'm going to spend my vacation. Not trying to be emo about it, but that's just the way life goes.

The energy pill kicked in and it feels like my heart is a hamster running on a wheel.

I just have to get through this week. I just have to get through this week. I just have to get through this week.

Time to go and scan.

-Rae