Just so dumb.

So I really thought that finding a job would help this whole down about my life state of mind I've been in. Maybe it runs deeper than that, or maybe the fact that my job is just over minimum wage is keeping the shit feelings securely lodged. I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that my car is broken that's responsible. What I do know is that I'm not loving this. Not at all.

I need to get back to the gym. I'll start again after the wedding (speaking of, I need to drop my dress off at the tailor tomorrow) so that my dress will still fit. Feeling shitty about my appearance isn't helping at all, and if I'm going to be spending a week in my bathing suit at the end of July, I'll definitely need to be in better shape than I am now. I am halfway back to my pre-pregnancy (or really, pre-shitty birth control) weight, and definitely looking better than I was, but I need to stop settling for "better than my worst" and get back to best.

I will be really relieved when the wedding is over. I'm tired of thinking about it, spending money on it. I can't even imagine planning my own wedding (right, because I'm the marriage type. sigh). I need to try on/shop for shoes, buy nail polish and try it out before the actual wedding, get my hair cut and colored, have my dress sized, figure out how I'm going to style my hair... Etc. Weddings are such a damn process. And I'm only a bridesmaid. I also need to fix my weird ass tan lines and moisturize the scraped up part of my leg so it's gone before the wedding too. At least the dress is really cute.

Oh, and another thing that's been getting me down is considerably more private, but I will say that I'm just setting myself up for disappointment, and I know it, but I'm doing it anyway. Like a complete idiot.

I figured out why I'm so bad at being a responsible adult though, so maybe that can lead to progress: I'm constantly just daydreaming. Living inside my head. It's nicer and easier and more fun in there, but it also leads to me thinking about fake life instead of me working to improve my real life. So stupid. And probably something crazy people do. I need to get my shit together and grow up. Or use my imagination for something productive, like writing. But stagnating isn't doing any good.

And speaking of writing, I need to keep going. I've been so focused on hearing/reading the response for Farthing it's like I forgot that I have five other stories going. They may not be as important as Farthing, but some of them could still be really good. I think at least one is total garbage, but I'll save what I've already written just in case there's some sort of break through on how to make it not shitty.

So this has been a mostly pointless and disjointed post, where I didn't really get to the meat of what's bothering me tonight, instead choosing to focus on bigger, broader upsetting things... Mostly because the two things that are really getting to me today aren't things I care to post freely online, or talk about to anyone ever, because that would mean admitting to feeling (redacted) and (redacted). And that's just not something I care to do now or ever, really. (see, I wont even generalize about it). Half is petty shit and the other half is... I don't even know how to describe it. A mess?

So dumb. Just. So. Dumb.

What I'm Listening To:

There's a CD I've been listening to on repeat today and yesterday and man, is it good!! It's called All You Love is Need by John Shade (@davegodowsky on twitter). The song Little Heart is so fucking good. He used to live in Boston but moved to NYC which is lame because I would have liked to see him play at some point... You know... When I have a job and a working car again. Anyway, if you go to http://johnshade.bandcamp.com, you can download it for whatever price you want, which is awesome because I didn't have any money to buy the damn thing, so for now I'm pimping it out, and when I do have a job, I'll paypal him some money because I have indie musician friends and it is expensive to follow your dreams, guys.

So go check him out. He's pretty damn fantastic.

Nice try...

Alright Nature, I see what you're trying to do for me, but until you have a tree that sprouts money, you're not any real help for my problems.
A for effort though.

Knitting, which is gibberish to most of you.

Every few... months? I guess? I go through a phase where I don't want to read, write, knit, anything. I just want to sit and stare at the TV or listen to music or other types of doing nothing. I definitely wouldn't say it's a depression thing, although there could definitely be some sort of mild feelings of "ugh". I get those every few months. I'm pretty sure it's a lot more simple than that...

I found my calling:

I have never been more excited.

Fuck you, Douglas

This baby is an asshole.

Some years ago, friends of mine named the sun Douglas. The moon is Bruce, in case you're wondering. Bruce is a great guy. He's totally responsible for the ocean, and he does his damn job and does it well. Bruce would never hurt anyone. Douglas, on the other hand, is a fucking asshole. He's always chillin' behind clouds, and causing cancer and sunburns, and global warming. What a dick, right? The worst part? Someday he's going to fucking quit on us and destroy the earth. (just kidding, we'll do that way before then.)

Random Paragraphs Slung Together

So since I wrote myself a list of goals, I managed to complete... oh... none of them?
I haven't written anything new in Farthing, but I am waiting with bated breath for a bit of a review from a Darach, who is the first person to read everything except for the prologue. I feel like it might have been a mistake to let him read it. What if he wants to read more of it? It's going to be a while, probably. What he if wants to read other stuff I wrote? He better like chick-lit and sex scenes, because whoa. That's pretty much all I can write. That's not true. I'm awesome and can write anything I want, but it's all I can write quickly and easily. Seriously? Chick-lit is stupid fun to write. And what I write is only a couple steps up from romance. embarrassing, right?

Anyway, all I've gotten from him so far is that he really liked the prologue, then he was reading it again last night and said that it drew him in (or that was his excuse for not coming up with a retort when I handed him his ass) so that's good. I want it to have draw. I am excited to get working on it again... I don't know why I'm such a slack-ass when it comes to writing. Afraid to finish it and fail?