Monday, April 4, 2016

Consumed (A to Z Blogging Challenge, Day 3)

I feel sadness creeping in and there seems to be little I can do to stop it. I fully acknowledge that I am every bit of HALT -- hungry, angry, lonely, and tired:

  • I ate rice when I got home from work because it was quicker than thawing ground beef and making pasta. I was already hangry, so faster seemed a better option than waiting a few extra minutes and eating some meat, which I probably really need to do.
  • I'm still angry at a rude house guest who went through my things when I was asleep and reorganized my art room. She went through my art -- TOUCHED MY ART -- and put it where she thought it should go, including changing the direction of two paintings. Unpacked my Goodwill box and put things back. Put dirty mugs in the cabinet. Unpacked a box of cookware and put it away. The list continues. I remain angry because nearly every day, I discover something else she did sans permission and my ass gets lit on fire again.
  • Lonely. Self-explanatory. Went to work today and saw a few people, but not many and not enough of the people I wanted to see. Stayed home all day Wednesday, my day off, which was great for shunning pants but bad for my eventual need for human interaction. I need someone here tonight because I'm performing at a poetry reading tomorrow night and I'm in that nervous 'What the fuck was I thinking by saying yes?' place that comes with pretty much every reading. The nerves are necessary and I know they'll last until after I'm off stage and then I'll be fine, but if we could just fast forward to the part where I'm done reading, that would be grrrrrreat. The writing I've been doing lately is not appropriate for the audience that will be at the coffeehouse, so I'm leaning on older work and I just feel like I'm going to disappoint people by reading The Same Old Shit. I rarely think people might actually want to hear a poem again. To me, it's the same old crap and I fear that angry, beret-wearing patrons are going to chase me off stage by banging tiny spoons against their cups of espresso until I flee in abject shame. Melodramatic? Why do you say that?
  • Tired. Always tired. My brain lights up like a carnival at night and I dream vividly. Last night's dream was a nightmare -- those are becoming standard, which I'm not a fan of -- and involved me getting arrested and shown to a cell... which was really a small closet with crumbling plaster and a floor several stories down. Like peering down an elevator shaft. Woke up and felt my heart pounding and was worried until I realized duh of course that made me anxious. And then I realized I'd been dreaming, wasn't actually in custody, and my heart chilled out. Suffice it to say, I'm often tired and sometimes fall into death naps -- naps that last a quick couple hours where I think I just pass out from sheer exhaustion. When I wake, I surface with a gurgle as though I've taken on water and barely escaped drowning. It's an unsettling feeling, to be sure, but waking up and realizing I finally got some dreamless sleep is pretty great. Tonight I'm being not entirely wise and I'm drinking coffee long after I should, but mostly because I can stay in bed until noon if I want/need. I'm tempted to knock back some melatonin with a sip of java, but that might rip a hole in the space/time continuum. Maybe I'll do it. If I'm going to be awake, I might as well have something entertaining to watch. 

In examining other reasons why I'm feeling off, I know that I'm embarrassed because I had to give my T-shirt size to a tiny coworker who is getting ready to order staff shirts for our upcoming art fair. The only reason my coworker would wear a large shirt -- as in size L -- is to accommodate her boobs. I wear a 5X to cover years of eating my feelings and it's just embarrassing to admit my size to a teeny weeny who might not even fathom that clothes come that big (and bigger). A mean part of my brain keeps telling me that Tiny texted all her equally tiny friends and made fun of me. Or texted our manager and asked what tent store to order my shirt from. If I could take a break from worry -- being consumed by it, as it were -- I would probably sleep just fine.

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