I’m in a mood. It’s a little funky and I don’t particularly care for it and I find that when I’m in this kind of mood I need to do something about it or it will grow larger and heavier and stronger until I am forced to do something about it which is usually a self sabotaging catastrophic accidental on purpose mistake. Staying calm is not enough. I can’t get calm until I process and what better way to do that, then to write it all out?
I gotta let something go. It’s bothering me night and day. I’m not sure what to choose to drop or if I get to choose actually or if it’s choosing me first and leaving me no choice.
A silly burden dropped into my lap by a friend and now I’m stuck with it.
Its seeping into everything.
Shit should be excellent right now. On the surface, besides the mountains of financial debt that literally everyone is under, its steady and peaceful. I’m where I want to be.
And yet I’m frustrated up to my eyeballs and I want to knock something off a bridge. Maybe a car. With people in it.
Let me back up- All is well. I’ve suddenly become slightly important at work, and have been tasked to supervise others and my team is now complete. I’ve hired 3 grumpy old men to do my bidding and its really rather a wonderful treat to get to boss dudes around all day who would mansplain you to the moon if they didn’t have to laugh at your jokes. Big fan. One of them though- has me puzzled. I don’t know why now that we have worked together about a month that I want to punch him in the face rather than look at him and I’m struggling to coach him. Whenever he is within 10 feet I feel stabby. I don’t know why and it worries me a little.
I gotta let something go he said- Well he didn’t say, the stupid horoscope app my best friend follows has a look up your friends feature and it said that I pretty much have until February 26 to let something go. Something about how I understand myself, something about my personality from 19 years ago, is a wrap. Somebody from my past would come into my life and the interaction would be a catalyst to finally drop the thing- whatever the thing is- that is holding me back from transforming into my final boss self before I take Death’s train.
I’ve been befuddled ever since he told me this summer.
Its nearing Mid November.
My child isn’t coming for Christmas, which we technically don’t celebrate and I’m beyond pissed about that but I will never tell him that, I’ve gotten on his nerves enough I am sure. It’s just that I got him a train ticket for his birthday this year to new orleans or Niagara Falls for any day he wanted to book it and he decided sheepishly on the day before it expired that he’d rather just come and go to the theme parks or some such instead. At first I thought, wow, great sure lets do it at Christmas- but then I went to France and Spain and partied- in Ibiza celebrating my 50th and I’m not made of money. I could spring to pay for him to come to Cali and we go to the theme parks but I’d have to use credit cards to do that and he doesn’t really sound like he’s trying to contribute to the purchase since its a technical gift replacement but I can’t afford to do that. I said just come to visit for the holiday we will watch Doctor Who and make Lasagna and it will be great. Now suddenly, he can’t get off work. The gambler in me bets that would not be a deterrent if we were going to Universal Studios. Who wants to hang out with their mom when they are 25 anyway except every person who is broke and 25 and whose mom will cook for them or whatever. But I trained mine to leave. Its all I know of love.
Something- according to this stupid horoscope has got to go and I’ve thought perhaps, its men. I mean 19 years ago I was scared to death to be in California by myself with my child and no family. I was desperately on the internet looking for one to be the shield for bullets in case some came my way. They are supposed to be protectors according to their antifeminist holy books. So I wanted one, and that’s a lie, I wanted as many as I could keep- ideally as friends and comrades in arms to serve me, protect me. Worship. But that’s not all its cracked up to be. Nothing is. Even the boys who are bitches want someone below or beneath them- and I may never have experienced financial wealth but being in my presence is enough to convince anyone I am not beneath them. Hell I’m 5’9 most people on the planet have to look up to me naturally anyway.
Am I supposed to give up being an asshole? Nah, that can’t be it.
So now that I have calmed a bit I think the way forward with my new hire is to pretend he is my son. Forgive him for hating me internally and not being able to express that for the fear of consequences and no other reason, and pretend I’m trying to teach my son how to do the tasks that this elderly sly fox can’t seem to grasp, with that level of patience and see if the results change and I stop detesting the sight of him.
Sometimes I think quietly why won’t I fucking die already, jeez.
I’m going to stop hating on people that used to eat Tide Pods that are now dating AI generated lovers. Their lives are way worst than mine. The bitch below the bitch below the bitch that all lowly bitches want to know is below them. Only monsters need castes- and we all are indeed monsters. With Moods. Like mine in me. Le Sigh. Whatever is whatever- its fine, just not for me to keep using minutes riled up about.
My child doesn’t want to visit if I’m not taking him on extravagant all expenses paid trips, fine, as long as I can keep myself healthy enough to not have to be put into a nursing home or a jail, he can do whatever he likes- he’ll be back when he’s 30, I’m not worried, and I’ll accept all the love he can muster then.
And men. Do I still want an army of them in my backyard, chained to the fencing, in all heights, shapes and colors- of course. But the most recent person from my past, my self admitted narcissist stalker ex who nearly went with me to Vegas on my birthday-and mind you, hasn’t improved his life one iota in a decade in anyway- he used to sleep on a shitty floor with a busted mattress in 2015 and now, in a caravan in the AZ desert that he was planning on skipping out on cleaning or paying the current month’s rent for to come try for a head chef’s gig in San Francisco- which was the job he said he was up for when I met him in 2015- had me screaming at the top of my lungs in a parking lot and left me so completely angry that I couldn’t even enjoy Vegas and came home.
Gambling.
That’s it.
I probably should give up gambling.
Or
cheerleaders. I can’t talk shit about anybody- my son’s father was a bloody cheerleader. I have to remind myself I don’t know shit, often.
If I can be so bold- I probably should stop letting people who I think I have some relationship with introduce things into my space that make me change how I feel about my fucking self.
I’m the boss.
I’m in charge.
Its my fucking time, energy and money.
Its my life for however long I have it.
I’m calming… calmer.
Maybe I don’t have to let shit go and stop sending me horoscopes, perpetually manic friend that distract me, like you’re distracted.
I’m breathing…
I challenge myself to be quiet and kind today not only to myself and all the imperfect other versions of me that exist- the background character cousins that I growl at-but if I have to speak to my employees or relatives or long time associates I’m going to breathe deeply first and try to impart some wisdom based on my 2618 week long experience on earth delivered in a floating take it or leave it sort of way…
It’ll improve my mood and keep the furrows in my brows at bay.
You miss your life when you’re thinking about the future or the past or anything but right now.
How floaty is that shit?
https://books2read.com/b/b5oNAO
My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen... 