I bet you think this song is about you.

Weekend was okay. Went to dinner for Nanny's birthday on Friday with Ryan, Autum, Nanny, Mom, and Riley. Ate at Copeland's. It was pretty good. Didn't do much all weekend besides clean the apartment and watch The Office and Weeds, started that again, it's keeping me occupied. I did go to the cemetery as planned on Saturday, that felt good, got a few decent shots.

Mom came over on Sunday and helped me hang up the rest of my pictures, apartment looks really good now. Finally got a shelf up for my cameras. I ordered Chateau Pub off of Waitr, got a club sandwich and some bang bang shrimp-turn my back for a just a few minutes and Jack got up on the table and ate most of my damn sandwich, fucking dog. That was a good club, too.

When I got to work today, Mom messaged me asking if I was interested in going to Disneyworld next year. I'll probably have to work major OT, but I'm not passing that up, not with Star Wars opening up soon, and I'll kick someone's ass if I don't get over to Universal and see Harry Potter. We're also flying there, which means I'll need to restock on Xanax big time. Kind of worried about $$ but since I get my merit bonus and tax return right around that time, it shouldn't be too bad. Something tells me that going to Disneyworld with an almost five year old is going to go up there on my What The Fuck Were You Thinking list but I am not passing up that chance. I'll do what I have to. Plus, living so close to the airport, I won't have to put my damn car in storage.

Re-reading this book called The Truth, by Neil Strauss, which I quoted in my last entry. Neil Strauss wrote "The Game" (which I am also reading), which precedes The Truth. In "The Game", he's this dorky Rolling Stone writer who can't get girls, and he meets and hangs out with some of the best pickup artists in the world. After they get done with him, there's no girl he can't get with. However, in 'The Truth', he's shacked up with this model who he really cares about, but because he's become somewhat of a love/sex addict from all of his previous exploits, he's a serial cheater. It goes on to detail all the things he does in order to clear his head, and it's fucking insane- the amount of shit he puts himself through, but in the end, after he gets all of the threesomes out of his system, he goes right back to his old girlfriend. It's a really good book, and he sugarcoats nothing. Really, it's not so much what he does for her...it's what he does for himself. He goes to therapy, he goes to hypnotists and geneticists (lots of icky family shit) and some of it's bullshit, and some of it's not, but I've never heard or read about someone going through so much emotional brouhaha. Then again, he's also a writer, and writers tend to be curious and hungry for experience. Even so, even I don't even think I could do that much fucking therapy. Not reading it because of the outcome (that shit almost never happens, I'm not foolish enough to believe in unicorns and fairies) but because it reminds me that this guy was incredibly fucked up (his own mom wanted a relationship with him) and he still got what he really wanted in the end, even if his head nearly exploded. Enter hope-it's skittish, but it's still around.

Trying to break myself out of this anti-social bullshit I'm mired in. Starting to get scared that it's permanent, but all I can do is just try to break myself out of the habit, no matter how much anxiety I get. Sometimes it's a blessing, other times, it's a curse.

Freaking starving. I did not want to go to work this morning. I wanted to stay in bed and cuddle ☹️

If this phone does not stop fucking ringing...