lay across my big brass bed
Sep. 27th, 2022 08:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brandywine28My mom is really upset about the Queen, guys. I spent the first half of my September alternately consoling her and saying, "MA'AM, YOU ARE AMERICAN." Not that that made any difference. She's always been funny about the Queen. She's convinced they would have been friends. Just like I'm convinced she would've waited in that damn Queue if she could've, meaning *I* would've been there with her, possibly wearing her like a backpack for the last several stretches, meaning...I've never been happier in my life to be a gross, filthy colonist.
The day before the funeral, we were waiting at a bus stop, and a rainbow appeared. She saw it and, in the saddest, most wistful voice you've ever heard, said, "Oh! It's Elizabeth, coming to say goodbye to us!" Guys? Guys? She wasn't kidding.
Anyway. HELLO. I guess I took sort of an unplanned summer sabbatical. And...I do this. I do it so much lately it's become a pattern. I'll take off for a bit and when I come back I'll crack some not-really-a-joke joke about how I've been stuck on autopilot for the past three months. Or how someone flipped my "off" switch, or that brain eating amoeba slugs temporarily stole my ability to type, to think, to speak, to human. Except -- I know those aren't the words a licensed therapist would use! I dunno, kids. It may finally be time for that mood stabilizer.
I've been avoiding it for so long, but. This isn't working. And it isn't normal, and I know that. I'm practically half-hermit these days. Not good.
Other than that, there's...Apartment hunting? I'm apartment hunting. Again. Yes, there's a story behind it and yes, it is dumb, but if I tell it right now, I'm gonna have to think about the details and if I think about the details, my day will be ruined and I will once again be tempted to set a trash can on fire and roll it down Lefferts Boulevard during rush hour. I'll give y'all the full story soon, I promise. For now, just know that I have been threatened with mafia violence and I'm taking it REAL WELL. Just look at my relaxed stance and cavalier grin!
Then again, that could be because I've absolutely been lacking the energy needed to muster up a freakout, and...now we're regressing back into therapy talk. Nope! Onward! Moving onward!
Tomorrow's my birthday and I'll probably celebrate by eating some glass. It's a big one, fellas. The kind that ends in a huge, ugly zero. I mean, it's a good thing I'm an endless, unkillable entity, but even so: dislike. Reject. Dislike. Reject. I'm thinking Jurassic Park rules may be the way to go here: stand still, don't make a sound, don't look it in the eye, and maybe it'll just go away.
And yet, did I choose to draw attention to it? Did I bring it up? On my own? Unprompted? In a public forum? Yes. Yes, I did. Have fun with that one, licensed therapists of the world!
I hope you all have a very Shana Tova! I was born on Rosh Hashanah; not exactly a fun fact, but it's interesting in that I guess there were just, like...no doctors? In the entire hospital? They apparently ALL took off to celebrate the new year, and I was three weeks early (coulda been a Scorpio!) and...from there on the story gets a little fuzzy, but I think I may have been delivered by a janitor. Or maybe a gift shop lady?
I hope they got some nice overtime out of it, whoever they were.
The day before the funeral, we were waiting at a bus stop, and a rainbow appeared. She saw it and, in the saddest, most wistful voice you've ever heard, said, "Oh! It's Elizabeth, coming to say goodbye to us!" Guys? Guys? She wasn't kidding.
Anyway. HELLO. I guess I took sort of an unplanned summer sabbatical. And...I do this. I do it so much lately it's become a pattern. I'll take off for a bit and when I come back I'll crack some not-really-a-joke joke about how I've been stuck on autopilot for the past three months. Or how someone flipped my "off" switch, or that brain eating amoeba slugs temporarily stole my ability to type, to think, to speak, to human. Except -- I know those aren't the words a licensed therapist would use! I dunno, kids. It may finally be time for that mood stabilizer.
I've been avoiding it for so long, but. This isn't working. And it isn't normal, and I know that. I'm practically half-hermit these days. Not good.
Other than that, there's...Apartment hunting? I'm apartment hunting. Again. Yes, there's a story behind it and yes, it is dumb, but if I tell it right now, I'm gonna have to think about the details and if I think about the details, my day will be ruined and I will once again be tempted to set a trash can on fire and roll it down Lefferts Boulevard during rush hour. I'll give y'all the full story soon, I promise. For now, just know that I have been threatened with mafia violence and I'm taking it REAL WELL. Just look at my relaxed stance and cavalier grin!
Then again, that could be because I've absolutely been lacking the energy needed to muster up a freakout, and...now we're regressing back into therapy talk. Nope! Onward! Moving onward!
Tomorrow's my birthday and I'll probably celebrate by eating some glass. It's a big one, fellas. The kind that ends in a huge, ugly zero. I mean, it's a good thing I'm an endless, unkillable entity, but even so: dislike. Reject. Dislike. Reject. I'm thinking Jurassic Park rules may be the way to go here: stand still, don't make a sound, don't look it in the eye, and maybe it'll just go away.
And yet, did I choose to draw attention to it? Did I bring it up? On my own? Unprompted? In a public forum? Yes. Yes, I did. Have fun with that one, licensed therapists of the world!
I hope you all have a very Shana Tova! I was born on Rosh Hashanah; not exactly a fun fact, but it's interesting in that I guess there were just, like...no doctors? In the entire hospital? They apparently ALL took off to celebrate the new year, and I was three weeks early (coulda been a Scorpio!) and...from there on the story gets a little fuzzy, but I think I may have been delivered by a janitor. Or maybe a gift shop lady?
I hope they got some nice overtime out of it, whoever they were.