Swoops and Smashes

[thepnutgallery]

Middle of the night again, but nothing worked to get me back to sleep. Several Seroquels and melatonin later, I was still wide awake. I even tried beating off, added poppers...then vomited. I've never actually had that happen before, even with all the poppers I've done, and even accidentally getting a mouthful of them. I've obviously vomited before, and sometimes poppers were in the mix, but the proximate cause there was always, clearly, other chems. And since I was up, I got to hear a cat scream outside. I screamed too, but on the inside. And then I went looking outside, even though I knew it was a fool's errand. Bassically just walked the block listening intently for...anything. I guess at least I was dressed and ready for the day. But still needed a metric fuckton of coffee. I think I had about two pots worth or so, but I swapped to Instant after the first pot. On the plus side, I worked very fast. That's the main reason I largely swapped to tea, really, was so coffee would hit like a glacier of coke when I need it to. Or at least like that one time at dance class after a 5 lbs bag of (vegan!) chocolate-covered espresso beans. I've never done coke, so that's what I imagine it's like, anyway. I got all my work done, all my work that came in for me to process tomorrow, and wisely kept my eyes on my own paper. Doing other's work is only for when all my work *and all my side projects* are done. Also, being me, I would then start feeling responsible for their work. I felt myself drifting close to that last week.

My session with Candace was useful, though it seemed more life coaching than our typical session. She didn't have much to say about Jared, especially since my thoughts on the subject are already pretty rational. Jared's experiences and individual decisions are equally unfortunate. Same with my thoughts on euthanasia and death. Now that I think about it, though, that's clearly one area where that one side of me is very apparent. Like...I could see me dragging someone into the room. Or gutting them for failing their furkid in their hour of utmost need. We didn't get into that, though. Much of the discussion was about Julian's co-dependence, and how to help him without making his problems my responsibility. How to help him manage his own problems instead of swooping in to fix them. So I guess it was also about my co-dependence. Literally 100% of my self-worth, of my reason for existing, is what I can do for others.

FHA messaged me to see if I could put in a good word for Aimee at The Center, and the job certainly looked like a good fit, I just didn't think I knew Aaron or Steve well enough to ask a favor. Despite having had pretty stellar, connected, escapades (avec et sans culottes) with both of them, now that I think of it. Anyway, rather than a shady wink n' nudge, say no more, I opted to write a letter of recommendation. I just needed her resume. He said he'd send it later, which worked out because I had so much else to do first. I made sure to copy all the items I'd need for the Benoit to my home computer, just so I didn't feel (as much) pressure to finish the draft before the end of work. I could feel when I set the one-week due date that I was almost definitely biting off more than I could chew, and both the enormity of the work and the *idea* of the enormity of the work stood in my way. PLus that whole insomnia thing.

Kelly Clarkson to the rescue! I dug into her various Kellyoke covers, and even though I *definitely* did not get all my work done, I made really excellent progress, and I thought of a way to address my psychotic fear of hearing myself. I'll just have solo drunk karaoke nights. Play the backing track, alone with my headphones, and webcam on. Listen during or after, according to my nausea level. I will fucking conquer this. I'm goal oriented. I have no idea what time it was that I finally crashed. Too late and too early.