Friday, June 19, 2009

50th Post

And what a grand celebration it is. Only took me like 2 and half years to hit the half-century piece.

And I don't even really have anything good to say. I am mostly having just an insurmountably frustrating day with short bouts of self-torturing (though I must say this is an improvement.) I am exhausted all the time (turns out that emotional distress and extreme unhappiness--not to mention the drinking and cavorting that ensue from said issues--can be super tiring. Who would've thought?) and I am UBER employment-frustrated.

I won't get into the deets, it wouldn't be safe. I know that there are spies reading this.

However, it is not just bill-time here, spent-all-my-savings crunch and didn't-get-what-I-wanted-here, job that is stressing me out. I am worried and picking on myself and doing all the annoying, scared, chicken-shit high school crap and all I ever wanted was a snow globe.

Whattayagotta do to get a little comfortable in this place? Huh? I just want to feel happy and safe and needed/wanted/loved. Is this just a damned hard thing to get? Geezus.

If a gallon and a half of white russians, Big Lebowski, and a pretty definitive kickball victory--even when it was raining a bit!--can't shake off this dust, what on EARTH can?

I can only guess it will have to involve a Jeanie, a visit, and some galloping. I hope she really comes (she doesn't read this, though, so she may need encouragement otherwise.) And maybe a pool party this weekend at which I will NOT wear a bathing suit but rather a cute, somewhat bust-revealing sun dress that that old hat o' mine never even saw, and boy, would he wish he had. Nothing to soothe the "Is she cuter than me?" masochistic blues like some good old fashioned flattery and pandering from the opposite sex. And I have always had a knack for that, Lord please don't let me have lost that gift, too.

So if I can get checked out a little bit and some sun, I might, MIGHT, MIGHT feel even better. Plans for other self-improvement projects also in the works.

Follow-up later, Numba 51, here I come!

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