“It’s Friday night, and I feel alright, there’s a party here on the west side! So I reach for my 40 and I turn it up!”
Just kidding. While it is indeed Friday night, I feel okay, and I live on the southeast side, there’s no party, nor do I have a 40 nor will I be turnt. Being 37 is wild, y’all. Ten years ago, yes, I would have been turning it up, but I’m old and tired now and have slid into a hermit stage. Such is life, I guess. Instead, I’m sitting in the darkened living room with only the glow of my laptop screen offering any light and listening to my music at a somewhat respectable level. I wonder if Gail thinks I’m dying; I haven’t had a noise complaint from her in months. It also helps that I’m usually in bed or on my way to bed at this time.
Ah…were to begin tonight! There’s just so much to write about!
My classes are over with for the quarter and good god almighty, I am glad for that. I did not do well this quarter, much like last quarter and I’m kicking myself in the ass for that, as I’m often wont to do. The spring quarter was a shitshow towards the end when Partner In Crime moved. I stopped caring. I quit going to class. I didn’t take my final and shock of shocks, I failed anatomy and will have to take it over again. Please know that I do not blame PIC at all for this, and I accept full responsibility for my actions.
This quarter was marginally better, save the whole “wait to the last possible minute to do my online homework” thing, which was a gas. I did well with homework assignments despite that, but it was the goddamn fucking tests that did me in. I am a horrible test taker and my grade reflects that. I hate being tested on shit. If I could offer an explanation for how things work instead of be faced with multiple choice questions that are all very similarly worded and then cause me to second-guess myself, ultimately changing my mind from the correct answer to the wrong one, I’d be golden but that’s not how this crap works. I don’t know what to do now. Of course I’m doubting I can even keep trying to become a nurse and just give up on it because blowing two quarters and roughly $2000 (motherFUCKER) is not good. It’s not good at all. It’s the opposite of good.
I have also been highly distracted by this weight loss thing, which sounds dumb as fuck, but it’s true. For example, I work full-time and have been deemed the “late stay bitch,” which means I close the joint down at night. I get home at either 6:30 or 7:30pm, depending on the day, and I’m focused on getting dinner made, which now that I actually take time to make myself food instead of grabbing fast food on the way home, it’s a bit time consuming. I am also usually too tired when I get home to exercise, so I have taken to going to the gym or riding my bike in the early buttcrack hours of the morning before work. When I get home, that means I’ve been up for a good 14 hours already and doing homework is the absolute last thing I want to do, so I don’t do it, which means I wait until the day it’s due and good times ensue. I know it’s a piss-poor excuse, but goddamn it.
I’ve decided to not register for classes this coming quarter, which fuck me, but I can’t keep wasting money like that–which incidentally has also been anxiety-inducing as of late (more on that in a bit). I’m going to skip this quarter, try to regroup my thoughts, do some soul-searching (have I looked under the couch?), and hopefully emerge with a firmer grasp of what the fuck I want to do. Wish me luck.
Money, money, money, money, MON-AY! I hate it. Always have, always will. For those unaware, when PD died, he left some farmland to my brother and myself. Not being overly keen on being landowners, we sold that bitch off and thanks to tremendous forethought from my dying father, he left the land in a trust which spared us huge taxes on it. It was a good chunk of dough and that goofy sonuvabitch knew how much it was going to help me dig myself out of a financial hole that I had been digging, and boy howdy, was it ever welcomed. I still don’t think I’m worthy of having that inheritance, and those feelings are crashing back.
There’s an old sketch comedy program called “Mr. Show” and it was on HBO back in the late ’90s/early ’00s and starred David Cross and Bob Odenkirk. It was hilarious. They did a skit about a child actor who ended up blowing his fortune on stupid shit and then this kid tried to sue Hollywood for not telling him that by giving him this money that it would eventually be gone. It’s way funnier than I am describing it, trust me. Anyway, I kind of feel this way. I mean, I haven’t bought anything outlandish or totally frivolous. It’s just…running out. It’s causing me panic attacks lately because of that. I was hellbent on paying for school out-of-pocket and not having to rely on student loans, but if I keep going to school, I may need to bite that bullet and take out some loans, which just pisses me the fuck off because I’m still goddamn paying off the loans from 12 years ago, goddamn motherfucking cocksucking dammit. I chose not to pay them off in full because thanks to years of horrible financial mistakes on my end, my credit was like, -4. By paying monthly, I’ve been able to raise my credit, so is that a definition of silver lining? Sure?
If I keep paying for school, my living situation needs to change. I pay way too goddamn much in rent. I tried to buy a house earlier this year but between the market also being a cocksucker and PIC leaving town, I didn’t and still don’t want to be tied to something like that. I need to look for a cheaper place to rent, but I have been avoiding doing so because I absolutely fucking hate looking for places to live. Who does, right? No one, that’s who.
I could get a roommate but that idea makes my asshole pucker. I may not like living alone, but I am real goddamn used to being alone now and the thought of having to share my space with someone who will surely annoy me to tears is not cool. But if I don’t figure something out soon, I’m scared to death I’ll end up like I was before and having to rely on the otherworldly kindness of my friends and live in someones basement again and that terrifies me for a lot of reasons: it’ll confirm my failure. I’ll feel like I’ve let literally everyone in my life down. I can’t be in that place again. I can’t. It won’t end well for me. So that’s been a load of stressful fun! Yay!
And what do I do with stress? I ignore it, that’s what! Good plan, Erin! I don’t know what to do, and thinking about options fuckin’ cranks my anxiety to 11, so I stop thinking about it until I’m forced to think about it again and what a vicious goddamn cycle of suck. I hate it. Hate. It. I thought this week to get another job maybe but I can see that failing me because I’ll be too busy working to have time for school and I’ll really never finish this goddamn degree. If anyone has any brilliant solutions, I’m all ears.
One more thing about the money issue and I’ll shut up. I don’t know how to say this without seeming like I’m being a braggart, but I’ve been plenty generous with the cash and helping people out. Again, that makes me feel so gross to even bring up, but it’s also factoring into why I’m running low on dough. My mentality about giving is this: I had been helped out to ridiculous levels in the past and by returning that favor to people or causes, I feel like I’m atoning for my past money transgressions. Plus, it’s so freaking great to lend a hand. If I ever win the lottery and have millions of dollars, I want to spend my time helping other people out. It’s a cool feeling, yo. I dig it. But I’m doing too much, I think. Fuck. I hate that, too. Insert heavy, resigned sigh here.
Now, on to this weight loss thing. I enjoy that I’m more active again. I truly like sweating and pushing myself to physical limits to see if I can outdo myself, which I can report that I have been able to do. Now, if I can only get my brain to fucking cooperate with me while doing this, that would be fan-fucking-tastic. What do I mean? To date, I’m down 30-ish pounds. Good for me! Way to go! But I still feel like I look the exact same physically and that leads to “why the hell are you even bothering doing this?” Like, I know that by losing weight, I’m not going to suddenly be gorgeous or that my entire body structure and frame will change, but I also still expect that? Does that make sense? Thirty pounds, sixty pounds, eighty pounds…I’m still going to be 5’11” and be built like a tank. I have broad shoulders and hips, a long torso and legs, and a big German head. I’ll still also have stretch marks and loose skin, but I somehow magically think my skeleton will also shrink? Like…? Erin? You okay, hon? That’s not how that works, sweetie. Body dysmorphia is a real fuckface.
I’m still crying about my boobs, too. Although I tried to buy smaller sports bras tonight and thought I could shove myself into size large bras and I guess I’m happy to report that I haven’t lost that much tit and spent a hilarious few minutes wrestling myself in and out of these things. I’ve lost enough mammary though, that I now think I’m a slug of a woman. I’ve always been kind of obsessed with boobs and it’s even more so now. I see ads for bras and all these lovely women with lovelier boobs and I get mad that I don’t have smooth skin around mine or that they’re full or even in the same spot as they once were and goddamn it, boobs. You were the one (well, two) thing(s) that I actually was proud of on my body–I don’t look like much in the face department, I am overweight, I have the aforementioned stretch marks, but goddamn it, I had big tits and everyone likes a nice big set of tits. Not anymore! So that means no one likes me. Isn’t my brain just the freaking best?! Sakes alive! I’m suddenly less worthy of a person because my breasts have shrunk a cup size. For the love of fuck, woman.
On to another topic: that goddamn guy who moved. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop missing that goofy sumbitch. Some days it’s okay, some days are not. It’s wild to me he’s been gone for four months already, and I secretly wish he’s going to pull an Erin and in two months be all, “yeah so, this didn’t work out like I wanted and I’m moving back to Nebraska.” I know that isn’t going to happen, but still. And like things would go back to what they used to be is also a fool’s wish. There were a series of concerts these past few weeks that he and I were to attend and obviously only one of us could and that got to me hard. I wish with all my might he could have been here, but it just didn’t work out that way.
But hey, I got to see Live perform, so that was neat. Take THAT, silver lining! You take it! I just listen to my music and hope he’s okay…not that he would ever tell me he wasn’t because we’re awfully goddamn similar that way, which is both great and also slightly maddening, but all the best things in life are, I wager.
That’s going to be it for today. I, for whatever stupid reason, have gotten up at 3am for the last two days and I’m real tired!
As I always say, thanks for reading. I appreciate you all–all three of you. 😛