Ok. I am accepting that I am sad and trying to just be quiet and not do too much. Which, in turn is making me fat. So, winning is not happening today. Although, I did download a whole bunch of comedy last night and put it on my ipod and played it in the car today while I was delivering flowers. So, that was kind of good. I brought home some pretty tulips, also good.
I guess what I'm trying to do is remember that I'm not crazy, I have actual things to be sad about. Sometimes I forget that, since I spent so many years not being able to separate my real emotions from just being anxiety ridden.
The quitting smoking pot....well, I quit quitting. Now I'm just cutting down. I'll try again, but, in the meantime, I think I won't beat myself up about it. I mean, I'm not stoned right now....
I'm going to go stay at my stepmother's house while she's in Toronto. Big place, huge tub, dictator sized bed, all cable stations and pay per view, newspapers delivered daily, many sofas. Actually, many beds, too. Fridge full of food. I don't know. I think it will be good, but it will also be weird. I haven't really spent any time there since my dad died, and he will obviously be very present. I guess it'll probably be cathartic. Or something. God, I am in such a funk.
I am trying to drag my ass to comedy shows, just to keep my face there, but haven't booked any shows for two weeks. So I want to head to the El Cocal tonight for the show, since it's only walking distance....but I'm kind of feeling weird about the possibility of seeing Mr. Married. (You know, I think I'm just going to call him Sean from now on. That being his name.) It's extremely possible that he won't be there, but also possibly he will be there, and I just want to leap into his arms, but I don't know at all how to be around him. He's got me all discombobulated. I just can't be cool around him. Fret fret.
Thank goodness for America's Next Top Model. I mean, it's so good to be reminded that people have problems that are so much worse than mine. Wait. What? No, that's not it. It's good to watch skinny girls get called fat and realize why the world is falling apart at the seams and why I'm going to be running to the hills to defend my compound in the next five years.
Oh, hell. I'll walk down there. What's the worst that can happen? I sit outside crying myself silly after he leaves? Nah, that was last week. If it happens again, well, then I get some sad out. Of course, what I really want is for him to see me, lose his shit, leap on me and kiss the hell out of me. Sigh. Wish I looked even a little pretty this week. But...eek.
Peace out, kiddies, be kind to each other. Pat a pug tied up outside a market, that improves your outlook. Chat with a hilarious person in North Carolina while you are both playing online poker. Also fun.