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Kind of a Big Deal

 It’s just a normal Friday. I woke up and smoked a cigarette, like I always do, made a pot of coffee, ate a big pancake, and…got my new jeans! Yes. I ordered them on the kohls website and picked them up in the store. This is kind of a big deal for me. Because I don’t have many jeans that I am fond of. In fact, I only have two: a pair of skinny legs that fit funny, and a pair of dark stretchy skinny leg, that I just loaned to a friend, which I got at the thrifty store and were my favorite (I don’t know if she’s going to bring them back :/). I used to have a pair of high waisted Vanilla Star skinny jeans with rips, but I got skinny and stupid and threw em in the trash. But I didn’t have any bell bottoms. John confessed that he thinks women’s legs look funny in skinny jeans, and that the bell look is much more flattering, and I agree. I thought that look was out of style, and that wearing bell bottoms made you look like a new age hipster or a tacky byproduct of the seventies (peace, l...
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Running on Empty: Full of It

 I know I said I was quitting writing. Well, I lied. I tend to do that, and to also change my mind, cause I’m a woman, and we’re diabolical.  Not to say I’ve lied in my writing: I do tell the truth, and if anything is false it’s because I’ve exaggerated as part of my creative license (yes I have a license for that. How I got my drivers license I don’t know, but I am officially permitted to be creative. Thank god). And change my mind?…I do it all the time, evidenced by my multiple outfits throughout the day and numerous edits in my posts (only you wouldn’t know cause you don’t go back and re read them. But I have integrity). I only want the best (my names rhymes with best after all) and I’m only trying to be better, at the cost of forgetting the need to be better is to cease to be good. Didn’t I say I was diabolical? Anyways this is probably all related to my “addictive personality” (I don’t really understand that phrase, but I’m going to use it cause it works (okay I looked it...
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Red Bull Gives You Wings: Free Bird

 “Who do you work for?” You might’ve been wondering this, and the answer is: myself. I am my own boss. And she’s a bitch. Anyways, I wanted to give you an update on Bike Week, cause John and I like to frequent Main Street twice a year. It’s like our thing, sans alcohol; John is sober by association, lol (don’t blame me (I told you my boss was a bitch), the guy just doesn’t drink. I am blessed). It’s a weird thing for someone who used alcohol as a social lubricant (and lubricant in general. Life was very slippery), the former high school girl whose face turned red anytime a cute boy spoke to her. So I’m faking it until I make it, taking on some confident sober persona, and I don’t understand it, but I like it. You’ve come a long way baby (you’re in Daytona Beach!).  We parked on Grandview Ave, and walked several blocks to Main Street, because parking is tricky, and we won’t pay for it, so we do a lot of walking. I don’t mind, but it was chilly, and I wore my big winter coat wit...
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Let’s Try: That Time When I Went to Rehab

 Unlike Amy Winehouse, when they tried to make me go to rehab, I said  yes yes yes. Well, I must have, because I ended up there. I only had a budding problem with alcohol and marijuana (and my chicken shit ass didn’t dare use anything else); I liked it and I enjoyed it (is that a problem?), but when I got out of rehab I had a guilty complex about using it (thanks!). It was 2021 and I was in the psych ward at Advent Deland, because of, long story short: the DMV, instant coffee, and baby spiders (yeah, weird). This was my second time there within a month, because I just loved that place (really I had a sick satisfaction with their religious program), but they clearly didn’t feel the same about me. I told them I couldn’t go home, as my dad kinda kicked me out, and I was kinda homeless (I kinda lied). So they kinda suggested, would you like to go to a nice rehab in Winter Park Florida?… (the place that shall not be named). I didn’t have a choice because they weren’t going to keep ...
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A Post With No Name

 It feels good to be back on the blog, but it is bittersweet. It seems I really do need to stop dreaming and start DOING.  My new therapist says I should inquire at Daytona State College about career guidance. “You graduated from college, so you are a smart girl after all,” she says. Not addressing the severe anxiety and depression I am experiencing. No, I just need a JOB (no shit). My psych says I should just stay on my current meds. Great. My roommate says I make him nervous, and I need to “get a life.” Great. I went to the therapist because of that statement, a verdict that makes me more hopeless than motivated.  I could keep up the writing, but I will just write myself into a snowballed rabbit hole. The only silver lining is the humor. I thought I was a “sky full of stars,” when really I’m a crazily manic girl with a bad cigarette habit. I thought this blog was proof that I am a sane sober person, and as I type these words I feel key tapping bursts of joy. Every joke ...
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Is Anybody Out There?

 just checking.
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Going Through a Dry Spell (Literally)

  Help! I need some writing, not just any writing… The well is running dry. Either that or I’ve got to dig a deeper hole…but how far down can I go? The famous poet Edna St Vincent Millay said “myself I think will never know/ how far beneath the wave I go.” Well said. So, it’s not so much how deep can I go — I could plunge endlessly — but how much is my audience willing to tolerate? And most of these amorphous concepts I can’t even get down on paper. They’re ideas or phrases or cool title ideas, but they refuse to flesh out. They go nowhere. I always think of that scene from Boondocks Saints where Greenley says to the fat dude lying by the dumpster: “you’re going nowhere! Nowhere!” Yeah. I have slightly more faith than that, like the gumption to take off with a broken wing and try to mend it along the way.  And then there is the writing I have deleted. Yes, deleted. Because I don’t like having too many drafts, and I figure if it was that important I’ll remember it later. My jou...
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