I’m “woke,” but not in the way you’d want

thK7I76TO2I just feel…woken up.  What have I been doing for three years?  Is it culminating to something?

In six days it will be the third year anniversary of the fateful trip “-” took with the woman he married after me.

#metoo Jennifer Willoughby.  Hash-fucking-tag.

It would have also been my 26th wedding anniversary.  And, of course, it’s a lot of other things.  Good people’s birthdays, the day after Valentine’s Day.

Yeah.

I hate being a cliché, but I’m pretty done.  All the books said three years was it.

Am I headed to more commitment with my bf?  Am I ever going to change jobs to something I won’t loathe until I’m 67?  Or 70?

Will I be forever menopausally fat?

I’m engaging in EMDR soon.  I hope this will help, and yet, I hope it’s not just another method I’m going to try to be comfortable in my life and skin.

I get tired.  You know?  I’m tired of “trying.”

And yet, what’s my alternative?

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Wow…

moonI feel like I was abroad.

On the moon.

I don’t even remember some of these posts, but I like ’em.

More later.

I missed you, my people of Earth.

 

Infighting, Gin-Texting

My id has a binge mentality — food, alcohol, Netflix — the more the merrier.  I could moderate, but, I can’t ever think of a good reason to, so I just end up doing it.

Ego

My super-ego, on the other hand, keeps a balanced checkbook.  Has a budget.  A list of alternative activities to binge eating and/or drinking — take a shower, walk my cat, learn a language.  She believes that one day…maybe even tomorrow…she will convince the id and the ego to take her well-researched-reasonable-practical-rational baby steps.  And she also believes she can convince the other two to take the steps over and over again into oblivion.  The id and the ego think she’s a super naggy constipated bore.

She is delusional, and my id and ego want to throw their beer cans at her.

My ego…I don’t know.  I never seem to be the same person from day to day.

On a related note — gin is my kryptonite.  I try to lay off, because it’s hard for me to just have one, and when I have more than one, I start gin-texting.  Nasty texting.  Or emailing.  For some reason, last night I wrote out a gin-fueled email, the first in a long time, correcting the spelling and getting the jabs just right, and then I deleted it without sending it.

That may not sound like too much of a feat to you, but believe me, it is.

One for super-ego buzz kill!  Way to show up just at the right time, for once.

three things…

  1.  Gotta admire those who choose to follow my blog when I’m not writing regularly.  You are a Bad.  Ass.  (Meant to be a compliment.)
  2. WTF kind of word is “executrix?”  Actresses should be known as actors.  Executrix-es should be known as executors.  No need to call out genders, especially if the female one contains “trix.”  DISCUSS.
  3. And, the new copier at work says, “Recovering from sleep mode,” when it is gearing up from economy mode.  Whoever wrote that, please find me with your technological prowess.  We need to be a couple.  Seriously…”recovering” from “sleep?”  This person gets it.

The end.

DadDadDadDadDadDadDadDadDad

untitledFrom the daughter:

Dad bought a truck that looks just like your boyfriend’s.

Dad is taking me to Paris on an overnight train.

Dad is doing a lot of biking.

Dad bought a sailboat.

From the old neighbor:

They’re painting your house.  It’s sage.  Looks nice.

From the mom:

I’M FRIGGIN’ FINE!  THANKS FOR NEVER ASKING…

 

 

And letters have half-pints…

There are “capital” and “small,” or “upper” and “lower” case letters — Madonna and son, moms and babies, me’s and mini-me’s, adults and children, pints and half-pints.

letters

I guess numbers have Arabic (1) and Roman (I) versions, but it’s not as endearing.

Letters win again, in my opinion.