Thursday, August 31, 2017

Now Here's My REAL Blog Post.

Me, Looking at YOU. Inside the Computer.

Hi. So, come here often?

Heh. Joke.

I'm still awake and I am still annoyed.

Annoyed. What do I mean. I mean that I am annoyed. Annoyed that Moms > Art. Before your panties get bunched up MOMS, hear me out...

I've been here, living in Minnesota since March 2015. At my Mom's. We all know this. I am super lucky. I live with my Mom. She is a rock star. We all know this to be true, too.

I'm annoyed because...Because...I'm annoyed with...Myself.

I am Annoyed with Myself.

[pause for me to write song in my head...annnnd...done.]

I am annoyed with myself for a long list of reasons and lately I have been acting out. Angry. I get in these horrible fits. It's amazing. Yesterday I side-kicked a leather poof thingy (from Midtown Global Market) in front of my Aunt and earlier in the day I threw some random t-shirts at the wall, trying to kill a mosiquito. I think I at one point also swore in every language every single cuss word I know.

[pause for me to write yet another song to myself – a swear word song – in my head...annnnd...done.]

I once told Rachel that the moment I say I am "bored" I am cured from my Chicago Depression. Well. I am bored. And it is not as serendipitous as I thought it would be.

There are a myriad of reasons why I am bored, and the annoyance comes in because I had to unfriend all of my mom's friends just to give myself some breathing room. I love you guys so much, but any time I post and then you talk about it around my Mom, it stresses her out. She is super private while I am a transparent eco friendly shopping bag.

To Review:

MOM \\ XXX \\ Social Media / Spilling Guts on Internets.

SUSAN \\ yes please \\ Social Media / Spilling Guts on Internets.

And so.

I feel like I have fallen prey to voices (yours, mine, that man on the corner who wants to bum a smoke) and I can barely hear the one that is supposed to actually be talking. 

I have been singing / screaming / posting / swearing etc. etc. all because i am in this hideous holding pattern. I broke my wrist, got super sick, wrecked my car, and I am grounded inside the state of Minnesota until future notice because I cannot seem to man up and go back to a big city, where I feel in my heart is where I am supposed to be.

I am entirely and completely exhausted. I failed Tinder, again. I think I weigh 15 hundred pounds, and I just ate an entire thing of Steven Colbert Americone Dream ice cream (Ben & Jerry's; it's life changing).

And I do not have anything else to say. I want you to say it. But here is the DO NOT SAY AND OR ASK list of questions:

  1. Are you taking your medication? (Yes, you fucking idiot)
  2. Are you getting enough sleep? (Yes, if I could stay asleep until the next president comes and saves us from T, I would).
  3. Why don't you try and RELAX (I will feel much more relaxed as soon as Physical Therapy lady says I can go outside and play.
I am so tired and I am going to go to bed. Here is where I am leaving it (thesis)

I FEEL LIKE MY WINGS ARE CLIPPED.

And I wish I were floating in space with Sandra Bullock. These are my thoughts.

One more smoke in the scary suburban silence and then hopefully I drift into a dream about a 747 landing in the middle of Being or Moscow.

Peace (I'm trying!),
Susan





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