Monday, March 30, 2015

When in doubt, list.

This March has been such a blazingly shitastic

No, no, that's not the way to start a post.

I want to kill everything, and I'm pretty sure, at this point, I could do it with my raging feral hatred and a piece of silly putty

Hmm. Nope. Take a deep breath, Jo.

Some general advice to self-critical bloggers and diarists: Don't write things.

Kee-riste. Okay, forget it. There's got to be a way to quickly update my meager readership without setting off a three-day emotional breakdown.

Oh yeah, a list! No expansions or deep explanations necessary, just a presentation of facts and events. Those who know me will know that each item has caused my self-hatred and anxiety and isolation to completely take over, and I may be able to avoid my customary proclivity toward dwelling on awfulness. Sure, that's it. (I'll try to limit myself to 12 items.)


1. My Aunt Diane died after a ten-year battle with ovarian cancer. I couldn't attend the funeral.
2. My mom is convinced that I am the only confidant she has left on this planet.
3. Dad is acting strange - sold his car, doesn't seem to be working, calls drunk.
4. I broke up with the Manboy.
5. I am working on all the manipulative undercutting and controlling bullshit I allowed during my relationship with said Manboy.
6. Passing out, or nearly passing out, first thing in the morning has become a regular occurrence.
7. It took me two weeks to complete a phone call to my doctor's office. Appointment scheduled for mid-May.
8. I have no work.
9. I was turned down for a $10/hr job at a childcare drop-off center in a gym. Because, master's degree.
10. My usual references are dead, overseas, or otherwise non-responsive.
11. I've been living with a narcissistic,gun-lovin', fundamentalist Christian bulimic who chews with her mouth open for nine horrific months.
12. Despite efforts to invest in my friendships, I'm alone. All the time. The fact is, I don't rate.

Okay, I can't help it...

13. Shane's deathiversary.

Now just imagine the full-blown pity party. I was thinking I could market Pity Party Packages, complete with sad-face balloons, Elliot Smith albums, half-eaten Chinese take-out from that place that's not as good as that other place, and a massive chocolate cake. (It is a party after all.)

On the bright side, I posted in March.

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