The nap was a mistake. It threw me even more off center. Grumpy. Sad. Not wanting to do anything. And it's only gotten worse as the day went on. Meals were off. I'm hungry for tamales but the only place that makes decent ones is 10 miles away and I did not want to drive.
I have an appointment to get my stomach and bladder scanned, tomorrow morning. I have to fast, starting at midnight, and just know I'm going to be in even more of a mood before we're done.
What makes this especially rough is wallowing in this type of emotional space opens up the floodgates that hold back my You really fucked up your life thoughts. And that lets loose my masochistic need to beat myself up. I'm doing a great job of it, right now. Can't write a coherent story and Your grammar's basic Strunk & White and all that shit.
Of course, it's also the first of the month...when I balance out my checkbook and take stock of my finances and compare myself to how everything was a year ago...even six months ago...and kick myself for not having everything under full control.
Then I guilt myself by pointing out my brother was diagnosed with cancer not quite six months ago and going back and forth to San Antonio and staying there and paying for things that were needed is the reason I'm financially shaky, now.
Which makes me depressed...so I make pity-me posts like this, embarrassing myself further. At which point I finally snap This is fucking ridiculous and start to work my way out of it.
Shit...I'm a walking cliché of artistic self-indulgence. I need a cat to sit on my desk and judge me.
