Del Taco, 7-11, a Weed and a Walk

I knew I was going to come home from Del Taco and write here because I thought the highlight of my fucking horrible day was sitting there in the parking lot enjoying a fish taco and a bean burrito with green sauce and sour cream, listening to George Noory talk about past lives. Yum. And watching the people at the 7-11 across the street on Alameda and Glenoaks -- in 15 minutes about 25 people went in there and hey, I would've joined the party if I wasn't braless, in my pj bottoms and hopping along in bedroom slippers. How white trash is that, and I'm not even white. My mother would be screaming already: I didn't raise you to be like that! Well... using the word I hate... WHATEVER.

Ends up I had two cappers -- coming into my home was I've finally smelled the night blooming jasmine! Oh god, I can eat that stuff... I can't inhale it deep enough!!! It's just that lately I've had these sinus headaches that render my tiny-ass nose passages absolutely useless... so it was great to smell it again.

But before I went into the house, I saw that in my little 3' x 6' front garden there was almost a five-foot tall WEED peeking out from the middle of my jade plants that I'd never noticed before. Obviously, I've not been outside hanging because it's been too damn hot... but I saw that plant and fucking used all this pent up crap/rage inside of me and yanked that sucker into the air and smack into the green recycling bin. YAY! Victory for me: "Out, damned spot!"

Then what did I arrive to after my repast at Del Taco? A phone call from an IM friend, Sergio. A nice 26-year-old sound editor from Peru that I've spoken to on the phone before...he lives on my street, unbelieveable enough. We'd IM'd for a few minutes earlier tonight...and we finally did it: we met on the corner and took a 30-minute night walk. How great was that, I miss strolling around in the middle of the night...no dogs, you see. Nice fellow, with the whole world just looking at him straight in the face. Next time we talk he'll probably be in Africa travelling, or India... until then, I may have a walking partner at weird times of the day (you know those editor types). Very, very nice.

Now, why was today so bad?

* Physically, I'm worn out. I really think I'm going through peri-menopause because of these damn night sweats. I also wake up all energized at 8 am, then am useless by 4 pm, put my head down for 20 minutes and wake up 3 hours later and I'm wasted for the night. My head hurts because of PMS or high blood pressure or sinus shit and I am the fattest/heaviest/ickiest I've ever been. I also need bi-focals or something because I can't see worth crap and reading is a bear.

* I'm more distractable than shit now. A phone call, a question, an email and I'm not writing music. It's finally bothering me that I'm not taking care of myself this way and I wonder why I can't say NO to anything, I'd rather treat myself poorly?! This, my friends, is BULLSHIT. MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC...

* I haven't finished this one website, and finally got reamed in the ass about it. As embarassed as I am about it, it feels impossible to finish. And I've involved other people too... I promise and promise and I'm just such full of shit. So tonight I'm putting the timer on to work two hours on it, and it'll be done, I know it, and I'll check in. I can't stand how badly I hate myself for this.

* I took on a transcribing job to help out a friend but and for the $$... but I'm not a good transcriber. I'm not that fast so I end up making like three cents an hour... and this piece of shit interview (actually I don't mind the woman as much as my friend hates her), is taking forever. It's a waste of my time, it's under deadline and taking precedence over EVERYTHING. SO.... I've sworn off of them. Never again will I do a transcription. Ever. Not even my own. I just KNOW the universe has SOME OTHER SOURCE OF PROSPERITY out there for me that's not connected to earphones and a foot pedal -- I HATE THIS!!! Never, never, never again!

* Been having dreams about Mom being gone, so I called her this morning. She's fine. But I know what set this off: when I left this time, she asked me if they got sick would I move up there with them. I'm like, "What? Are you planning on getting sick anytime soon?" And she continues: "Would you let go of your apartment?" AARGH! I'm just willing to let go of you financially, damnit, don't be dragging me back in!!! I can't stand the fact that I'm the assumed one to take care of them, which is the tradition I GUESS in Filipino families since I'm the single one... but since when have they been so traditional?! LET ME GO or I'm going to have to move to fucking Switzerland. And then what do I get? DREAMS OF HER DEAD and me having to take care of my dad, while she haunts me (a la the terrific TV show Providence) about how I'm not doing anything right. AARGHGHGHGHGHGHGGH! Okay, breathing, breathing. Everyone is healthy and okay... even me, so I'm letting this shit go.

* I hate that I'm an Enneagram Seven and that I have no focus, no follow-through. Hate it. (Hey, have you ever played the game Typer Shark?!) So this Labor Day Weekend I'm planning NOTHING with anybody, and I am going to LABOR. I'm starting to panic about this recital, and I don't want to do that -- I want to finish it feeling good. So for this big chunk of a weekend... I'm GONE and into the world of composing. Otherwise I will be impossible to be around. Seriously. IMPOSSIBLE.

See you Tuesday.