![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Easter Report.
Apr. 21st, 2003 01:17 amWhen I actually woke up (circa, noon) I discovered that the family (ie Mom and Grandma) were heading out to the Indian Reservations for fun and frolicking among the electronic slots and keno games. I was going to take them to the movies today, but it just didn't happen. They invited me to go, which they often do, but again I turned it down. I went one time and had a really bad time. I'm a Vegas guy, myself, mainly because of the whole experience. If I'm going to be robbed blind of my hard earned cash, I want to have multiple free drinks in my hands, and an eye on the cute, but unobtainable waitress--not the chain smoking, one toothed Southerner from Bakersfield. You have to go to understand.
So instead I stayed at home and did not nearly enough of things that I needed to do. Mainly I napped (hence I'm awake now). Did some writing for some stuff that I have to have done (review more or less knocked out, but not edited; transcription of interview to be done soon...SOON.). Played with the dog for a little bit. Feigned billpay organization. Avoided eating anything healthy. Watched 4 hours of the 6 hour Children of Dune which Dave so graciously taped for me. Sat around feeling sorry for myself. Yelled at said self for feeling sorry for self. Brushed teeth. Avoided long term net surfing. Stretched and then realize that I need to do so more often (Paying for that now. Yoga? But what will the boys say?). Looked at room and thought about cleaning it. Opened blinds and let the sun shine in. Blatently refused to clean further. Thought about toast for Bri and Janelle's wedding on Saturday. Reworked it for the 10 zillionth time since last April when they told me I was to be best man. Drifted off during Leeto II's big speech on Time & Destiny. Dreamt. Woke up rewound and got meloncholy.
Mom called around 8:30. Traffic was moving at a snails pace and they wanted me to go and buy water (we don't do the filter thing, delivery is costly, and Compton's water is shite.). Called Brian. Schleped down into Long Beach and went grocery shopping with Bri.
We talked about stuff while shopping (I seem to have the best bonding experiences with my male friends when wanderig lost down the isles of grocery stores...go figure...)and how he's scared and excited and the like. Got back to his pad and talked more about just stuff. So much I wanted to say, but I didn't have the words. Or I didn't want to burden him with them. He's already got a lot on his brain, and I didn't need to give him more. So I just shut up.
Bri asked me when I called him if I was okay. Thought that I was sounding kinda un-okay. I reassured him I was fine. Though I'm not sure how much fine I was. Am. Dunno. Maybe I was just having weird panic attacks. I *do* feel better knowing that he's going to be okay. I was worried about him for a minute. Just like I've been kinda worried about myself from time to time. s'all good though.
The weird thing, right now, for me...I've been thinking about starting over again. Again. Just up and moving. Quitting my job, pulling up stake and going somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. And I don't know if I want that, or need that, but I'm thinking about it. And it terrifies me, and gives me promise, and horrible yet: Hope. Makes me want to start babbling about "fall or fly" again. Time to reinvent. Time to walk the Earth like Cain on Kung Fu.
Or maybe that's just the strange self imposed isolation talking. Maybe. Maybe I'm just emotionally overloaded and am whining like a simpering beeyatch. Save the Drama for Buffy.
I've got the munchies.
So instead I stayed at home and did not nearly enough of things that I needed to do. Mainly I napped (hence I'm awake now). Did some writing for some stuff that I have to have done (review more or less knocked out, but not edited; transcription of interview to be done soon...SOON.). Played with the dog for a little bit. Feigned billpay organization. Avoided eating anything healthy. Watched 4 hours of the 6 hour Children of Dune which Dave so graciously taped for me. Sat around feeling sorry for myself. Yelled at said self for feeling sorry for self. Brushed teeth. Avoided long term net surfing. Stretched and then realize that I need to do so more often (Paying for that now. Yoga? But what will the boys say?). Looked at room and thought about cleaning it. Opened blinds and let the sun shine in. Blatently refused to clean further. Thought about toast for Bri and Janelle's wedding on Saturday. Reworked it for the 10 zillionth time since last April when they told me I was to be best man. Drifted off during Leeto II's big speech on Time & Destiny. Dreamt. Woke up rewound and got meloncholy.
Mom called around 8:30. Traffic was moving at a snails pace and they wanted me to go and buy water (we don't do the filter thing, delivery is costly, and Compton's water is shite.). Called Brian. Schleped down into Long Beach and went grocery shopping with Bri.
We talked about stuff while shopping (I seem to have the best bonding experiences with my male friends when wanderig lost down the isles of grocery stores...go figure...)and how he's scared and excited and the like. Got back to his pad and talked more about just stuff. So much I wanted to say, but I didn't have the words. Or I didn't want to burden him with them. He's already got a lot on his brain, and I didn't need to give him more. So I just shut up.
Bri asked me when I called him if I was okay. Thought that I was sounding kinda un-okay. I reassured him I was fine. Though I'm not sure how much fine I was. Am. Dunno. Maybe I was just having weird panic attacks. I *do* feel better knowing that he's going to be okay. I was worried about him for a minute. Just like I've been kinda worried about myself from time to time. s'all good though.
The weird thing, right now, for me...I've been thinking about starting over again. Again. Just up and moving. Quitting my job, pulling up stake and going somewhere. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. And I don't know if I want that, or need that, but I'm thinking about it. And it terrifies me, and gives me promise, and horrible yet: Hope. Makes me want to start babbling about "fall or fly" again. Time to reinvent. Time to walk the Earth like Cain on Kung Fu.
Or maybe that's just the strange self imposed isolation talking. Maybe. Maybe I'm just emotionally overloaded and am whining like a simpering beeyatch. Save the Drama for Buffy.
I've got the munchies.
