(187) Things I Have Not Quit

Day drinking.

that’s it, the end.

Wait, no.

Tossing a line at people who seem like they might be mid-flounder. With everyone in various stages of realizing their culpability and responsibility, this is the one flame that must never waver. Some peeps are on the cusp, and as frustrating as that might be to those of us who have spent years on the cusp, or who dealt with the cusp ages ago, that person shouldn’t be yet another who topples over because I didn’t throw a line out. It might not boil down to those odds, but I’ve been in enough uncanny anecdotes to believe in the reach. Instead of a topple, it could be a rising.

Losing my temper. Hi. (see yesterday’s post. also a few others. hello.)
I’d be sorry, but I’m not. I stand by anger. It’s been one of my hardest won forms of self respect. I have worked hard to ensure that my anger is about where I am and my opinions, and not about verbal abuse or gaslighting. Even in my unfocused anger (or hyper-focused ahahaha yay which is it), I try to put my personal relationships first. With those very important caveats in mind, I’m very grateful that I have somehow caught the attention of people who hear me when I am angry. That, alone, is enough to make me cry from gratitude. So. Y’all. Per usual. The end.

Carb loading. Fuck a marathon. Sometimes seven servings of pasta just isn’t enough because mathwise that’s eight noodles and fuck ketosis just generally ok. Further, bread has literally gotten me from A to B this past week, and by A to B, I definitely mean ‘unwashed failure’ to ‘meeping but less smelly’.

Listening to music. Practicing music. Teaching music. Holy fucking salvation in any increment of time or understanding.

Scotch. No this is not the same as day drinking. I’m not irrational your face is.

Watching the healthcare ‘info’ unfold. I’m not ready to weigh in publicly, and so I’ve been trying to put my water towards other, arguably greater, fires. But rest assured this is the root of my personal, selfish inability in any regard. It’s not ok. Amongst so many other dumpster fires, it is not ok. Please be real about that.

More scotch. Fuck off seven times with your drinking disdain. I don’t care it’s Monday of next week. Fuck. Off.

Hope. Unfounded, unregulated, embarrassingly felt. I still hope. I can’t help it? I still hope.