523am102602

I don't even know how to write for myself anymore. A few years of posting online will do that, I guess.

Life is messy. True, life has always been pretty messy, but right now I'm more overwhelmed than usual. The "insomnia" is out of control. I'm backed up over a year with things I need to print out. I can't stop drinking.

Too much.

I found a new shrink. So far, so good, I guess. I've been trying to force myself to start walking. Because of a couple of years of non-activity, I've gained weight and shot my cholesterol through the roof. On my first walk I found the shrink's office. I also bumped into Cr. who was riding down the road on Km.'s bike. Km.'s a Veterinarian now. Pretty cool. Cr. is living in Texas, and just so happened to be in town on that day... and riding down the road I just happened to be forcing myself to walk on. I'm prone to thinking that sometimes when things are that coincidental, they're trying to tell you something, so, I made an appointment with the shrink when I got home. That was a few weeks ago.

I don't know that seeing a shrink will do me any more good than it ever did, but at this point, something has to give. I'm reaching the end of the downward spiral.


Part of me wants to trash all the writing. It's beyond an obsession. There are tens of thousands of pages... and for what? Why is it so damn important to save everything I write? Who am I trying to convince of what? Why is it that I feel the need to justify my torment... prove to someone that I truly am suffering and that I have a reason why I am?

The scores of binders are like weights on my back.

I've always wanted to be the kind of person who can live out of a backpack.

I tend to think that's because of not ever having a home that I stay in long enough. It's ok to have lots of things if you have somewhere to keep them.

I wish it was just the series of yellow journals... the now neglected series of yellow journals.

Maybe I should make that my plan... no more saving what is posted online. No more printing out e-mails, no more printing out IMs, no more printing out posts.


I need a beer.


Ok, have beer.


My stomach is pretty done. Anything stronger than light beer and I'm in some pretty serious pain. When I do puke, as rare as that is, it's usually bloody. Yes, I know that I'm an alcoholic, but I really can't think of any reason why not to be one. It's tough enough finding a reason to keep on living, let alone a reason to give up one of the few things I actually enjoy in life. The only valid reason is the cost. Odd how in 5 years rents have doubled and the people in government say that the cost of living has only increased about 8% I don't think that any of them are attempting to live off of $877 a month. Even cigarettes are through the roof. To buy a pack at the store, it's about $5. Long gone are the days when they were under a buck. Beer's about $20 a case. That'd be fine if I didn't go through a couple of cases a week. I guess that only the rich are entitled to have "habits".

I know me though. I'll be homeless before I quit smoking. Like I said, I'm not about to give up what little I have that makes life tolerable.

Other than beer and smokes, I have L. and A2 I manage to talk to L. about once a week or so. I've been forcing myself to walk to the grocery store (about 2.5 miles). My needing her to help me with that was really killing our relationship. I want to see L. when we want to see one another, not just when I need her help. A2, I talk to daily... sometimes for hours. I'm glad that I can do that. It's rare to have someone who actually listens to what you say, and who actually does care. I wish that we didn't live so far apart, but in a way, maybe it's for the best. Sometimes being too close to a person doesn't allow you to be as open. It's a control thing, I guess. I can only give so much of myself before I pull back.


I wish I were sleeping. It's 6AM. I can't do too much at 6AM. I, unlike the majority of my neighbors, don't like to make noise while others may be sleeping. It sucks that I'm most awake while others are sleeping, but I suppose that it makes sense. It's when I feel the most safe. I can relax a bit. The rest of the time I'm either tired or napping (I can't really call what I do "sleeping"). Run away, run away. Hide. Sleep disorders are fun.


I really need to decide what to do with this writing fiasco. I have so much to print out it's slowing this computer down. It's hours upon hours of work. Damn obsession.

I feel this overwhelming urge to "downsize"... to organize... clean up... purge... They say that when you feel like that it's because your head is cluttered... that because your head is cluttered, you try to organize that which is around you. Maybe there's some truth to that. All I know is that I feel completely overwhelmed.


Guess I'll watch tv.