Having my own coffee, for the first time in months. I finally roasted some beans.
The financing for my shrink visits has run out and I find that I don't care. I feel that we passed the point where the sessions were effective, and besides, if I want someone to rag on me, I'll call my mom.
I was reflecting on this one person I hung out with when I first got to this city, a condescending, overbearing, insufferable woman. It took me a while to figure out that I didn't like hanging around her. I had (have?) this tendency to disregard my own feelings and do what other people want of me (like, when Eduard wanted to get back together). Anyway, this person would say things like, "[incredulously] You don't know what such-and-such is?!" You know what? I would never speak to others that way. And there's no reason to be with people who do.
My kitty-cats have gone all finicky on me. No longer are they the feral kittens who would plow into anything served to them. I bought some Natural Balance food, figuring that they needed a change of diet for Missy to get rid of the yeast in her ears. Well, they won't eat it. They'll only nibble on it to keep from starving to death. For the record, though, Missy's ears are better. Maybe I need to track down another holistic, human-grade cat food. I was giving them Flint River Ranch before and they seem to like that, although they were getting tired of it. I wish Flint River made other cat food varieties for the dietary-sensitive, like they do for dogs.
Where did I put my phone?
10:22 PM
I was on the 'pooter at school earlier but Blogger was down.
They're giving MS Worrrrd classes at the community college. Shit, I could be teaching those.
I've got a serious spending addiction. Surely that's no surprise to some. I blow my rent money on stupid stuff. Spending is my opiate. I put myself on an eBay moratorium before and will have to do it again. How many damn Velvet dolls do I need, anyway? I've more than made up for not receiving one when I was five.
That dude who commissioned me to make him a doll has filed a complaint with PayPal. He and I had already cordially agreed that I would refund his money. What a dick. I should have known better than to deal with him. Never, and I repeat -- NEVER -- again will I accept a commission.
I feel very flat. Nowadays when I hear a jam on the radio that in previous years would have made me want to get up and boogie, I feel little to no response. Is this the result of getting older? I tried to dance in my living room the other day and I was so ... white. I used to be a good dancer. I used to feel such passion for things, like music or good movies or whatever. Now I'm just like, eh. Maybe it's my recognition of the corporate machinations behind our culture's entertainment. Why should I jump through someone else's hoop. Or maybe it's my meds. But anyway, yeah, I feel very flat.
A humorous aside: Today my dolly buddy Beth said to get some white nylon rope to unravel and use as doll hair. Interesting idea. I had to stop myself from telling her that, oh yeah, Eduard wanted me to get some soft rope to use in our sex games, but I'd never gotten around to it before we broke up (too bad).
He and I laughed about what might happen if I went to a nautical supply place to buy some rope and the clerk asked me what it was for; I'd simply say that it's so my boyfriend can tie me up. [But why couldn't *Eduard* buy the damn rope, huh? Why did I have to pay for every gottdamn thing? I can't believe I was with that fucking loser.] Gotta hand it to him, that was the most (only?) fun I've ever had in bed, and we barely scratched the surface. Nowadays my thinking is, who knows when or if I'll be in a relationship again, so the question of whether or not my partner would be willing to take a walk on the dark side is rather moot. I really don't want a partner; I can't even manage my own life, let alone a relationship. (I can't even handle dogs because it entails getting off my ass to walk them.)
I don't have very strong friendship skills. If I make contact with someone, I inevitably fail to follow through. Like, I'll chat with someone in class and then next time I'll forget to say hello. It's honest oversight, preoccupation and thoughtlessness rather than an intentional snub. My mind's just not all there. If I want to be a friend I have to intentionally tell myself, "say hello," or "write so-and-so." In other words, it's work, and work is not my forte.
I just want to sit in a room with nothing but my hobbies and do craft stuff day in and day out. That's all I want to do. I don't want to go to work; I don't want to go to school. Maybe someone could just lock me up in a padded cell with all my knitting, painting and doll supplies and I'll be a happy camper. Don't even have to feed me but once or twice a day.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 11:17 AM
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