Today was cursed. I don't know what my horoscope said, but if it was anything other than "DON'T FUCKING GET OUT OF BED!!" then it was grossly inaccurate.
I woke to the sound of thunder in the hallway; my much cool neighbor who flops on the couch once a week and accomplishes two things. I get kept company, and she gets to bitch a little about the people in her circle that I don't really know, and have few opinions about. My neutrality and her being a LIVE UMON BEING IN MY HOME makes for a lovely exchange. But that's over now. She is dumping me, and our apartment building, for more counter space and some kind of grilling apparatus. No loyalties in the girl rowers these days.
THEN, I got on the computer, like I always do first thing in the mornin', and some fucking molding, soggy puddin' of a christian conservative, told me she was blocking me because I didn't tolerate her hate messages of racism and verbal bile. Good. Block me. You're a seething wad of contradiction anyway.
On to the email I got back from a mentor, lady friend of mine. Wherein she mentioned that I'm too hard on myself. And you know what I said right? "DUH!!" No, just kidding. Really I said, well, um, are you sure? I mean am I harder on myself than the hardness that others put on themselves? And furthermore, don't you know that when you say this my brain immediately sends the following messages, "Carrie, you are too hard on yourself. You need to be kinder. You need better self esteem. What is wrong with you? Don't you know other people like themselves more than you like yourself? You need to fucking like yourself! STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF! FUCKING LIGHTEN UP DUDE!" And things along those lines.
The day got lamer and lamerer. It was greay to begin with. I am calling it "greay" from now on, because I can't fucking get a straight answer as to whether it's "gray" or "grey" so I'm going with both to cover my bases. I moved onto creating a darling little gift basket for my bad ass geography teacher, but was interrupted by a physical manifestation of my internal verbal abuse. She proceeded to invoke feelings of why don't I take the wine from the gift basket and use it to wash down all the pills I can find in my home? But I survived. I mean duh, obviously, I'm blogging, ner. I just wrapped up what I was doing and marched (with my car) that gift basket right to where my professor...had been. And was no longer. Now I want to take that cutesy little gift basket and smash it through the window of a starbucks that has been put in a gap. (I don't capitalise names of corporations, because they get no reverence from me. Remember my reverence/capitalising policies?)
So, blah blah blah. Then I felt better, blah blah, I wrote my mother, blah blah, can I go to bed and wake up inside of a different day now? Thanks.