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January 8, 2022

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Epiphany, Starting Over (and the time I cried in front of Chewbacca)

January 8, 2022

The current song on Spotify is The Badger by the Tea Party.

I met the lead singer a few times, he is a bit of a pompous douche, still thinks it’s the 90’s.A lot of dudes who were big deals in the 90’s have just not let that shit go.

This song is just instrumental with an odd time signature. I like it a lot. Reminds me of dancing in the office space of my old apartment with Giant. Probably in 2017. And before that, the Lippencott house in the 90’s with Jesus.

I noticed another eerie similarity between this year and 2017. Betty White died this year right before the new year. Carrie Fisher did the same in the holiday season between 2016 and 2017.

I am not one to mourn celebrity deaths, Robin Williams stung a bit and I still remember where I was when I heard the news. There are darknesses in life, and there are lights. These 3 were lights and it is hard when they go out. The world just seems dimmer for it.

I cried in front of Chewbacca at the new Disney Star Wars theme park in Florida in 2019. The whole thing was overwhelming, I was walking into my childhood. Remembering going to see Return of the Jedi with my entire family in Lansing Michigan. There had been a massive thunderstorm and the street outside the theater was flooded, but we powered through. I was wearing my brand new jelly shoes, and I was grateful for the plastic. Remembering my dad for years afterwards bellowing “Jabba the Hutt” before cannonballing into the neighbor’s pool and creating father sized tidal waves, which is to say, tsunamis.
I cried because on one of the rides, there was Princess Leia telling us we were her only hope, and 3 years after her death, it hit me much like the waves in the pool.

We were walking under the Millenium Falcon at the time and Chewbacca just happened to be there, probably coming off a break. He offered me a hug (in noises and gestures) and I didn’t take it. I regret this.

Would have made my inner child very happy even though I probably would have gotten salt and snot all over his costume.

Other things should be left in the past, like shoulder pads. While this might seem like blasphemy, I watched a couple of episodes of Golden Girls and it just seems dated. I realize it was progressive for the 80’s, but it just made me cringe at what we used to think was okay.

I am trying to change my morning routine and I cringe at what I used to think was okay. I was only on my phone for 19 minutes after I woke up, instead of the normal hour and 19 minutes. I tried to meditate, didn’t go so good, but the attempt was there. I cleared my mind for maybe 30 accumulative seconds, I had a hard time sitting still. I did a couple yoga stretches after. My back is aching from some new exercises I tried, plus the evil car ride home yesterday and sleeping on a couch for 6 days.  

I am currently staring at a small box of magic mushrooms. The voice narrating that line in my head is Special Agent Dale Cooper, as in “Diane, I am holding in my hand a box of chocolate bunnies”.

See? I am not as good at this as I used to be. My writing muscles have atrophied, like so many other things, and just like my real muscles.

I know the bridge between being at kiddos and the mushrooms, ie I gave him the capsules I had when I got mad at my ex hubby for a minute (ex hubby gave them to me in the first place) and now we can’t find them and I want them back. When my brain opened the door to the world I was writing about in the new book, those capsules were the key. I poked around kiddo’s place looking for them but to no avail. I respect his privacy way too much and they weren’t anywhere obvious. But I do have a box with a few grams of uber shrooms that someone gave me and I am trying to figure out how to dose myself properly so I can go back to working on the book. I really just have to talk to Giant, he knows things, but I don’t know if I want to talk to him right now. Drogo might know.

I spent 6 days at kiddo’s house scrolling through instagram and saving yoga/exercise videos. Did a few. Hurt now.

I also realized it takes about 26 food videos before I get hungry. My new year’s resolution was to eat less and be pescatarian again, but I changed it. Eat whatever I want (as long as I make it) and move more, even if it hurts. It does, I mentioned that right?

I also woke up naturally, and the first time, instead of putting on my sleep mask and going back to bed until 11. I am  going to uber to my waxing appointment and walk back. Stop at the mall and run errands. Walk some more. Baby steps.

Maybe tomorrow I can meditate for one minute out of the 7 I try. Maybe tomorrow yoga will hurt a bit less. Maybe not, won’t know unless I try.

You wanna know something funny? This was supposed to be a post about ex hubby messaging my new instagram account to say Merry Christmas, and how much it annoyed me. But did it? I forgot about it until yesterday when I had another message request and saw his. I had a lot of time to think on my way home yesterday. Traffic was slow because of the blizzards, plural, and shitty roads. Took over 3 hours door to door.

He’s never going to change. We have spoken a handful of times since we split 10 years ago (god it feels good to say that) and sometimes it goes decently for a while, but it always degrades into him being judgmental, or delusional or angry or even a delightful combination of all 3.This time I am just not going to engage.

I think the lesson there is this

If you are the least loved person in the house, you’re in the wrong house. Michael Xavier

Happened in Newfoundland, twice. Happened in Texas. And instead of dragging it out by digging my heels in and holding on for dear life, I left. I have nothing to prove to anyone.

Maybe I am getting better.

Uncategorized

Sarah vs the Beta Bitches

January 8, 2022

Oh Newfoundland, you whiskey soaked bitch.

Things that I loved, things that I lost, things I held sacred that I dropped.

Audioslave

They were all there. Waiting.

I think I didn’t see 3 people from my past chaotic adventure time on the island of misfit toys. Errrbody else waltzed into the bar at least once. It was good, mostly. (mostly they come at night, mostly)

4th (or 5th) verse, same as the first.

I met the cutest patootie of a baby stripper and we would pass the time wrapped up in blankets in the mezzanine, talking about conspiracy theories and the metaphysical. She’d steal my cheetos but jump up to refill my water for me. I told her my theory about how I died and Newfoundland was my perdition. She didn’t like that. Couldn’t figure out her place in it if that was the truth. The use of all my extras and past cast in the story of my life kinda made that theory more real. Or, it’s just season 5 and the writers are out of ideas. Then I would get drunk and do baby stripper stage school for a few hours.

I just realized (now, while editing) that I have terminated several toxic relationships with women this year, 4 someones who I thought were friends, weren’t. Including a woman who told me she hated my ‘smart college mouth’ and here is where I leave off.

No one pays more attention to you than a bitch who hates your guts.

You wanna know what I have to say…pay me.

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