I blog gluten-free

Sunday, March 24, 2013

It's Like Teaching A Pig To Sing... Castrated

Lately, I have felt a bit snappy... which is really bad. I was feeling marvelous. Enter: They Who Must Apparently Belittle To feel Good. Enter The Don't Analyze, But Please Do Analyze Why You Are Apparently Weird, Why You Are Quiet, Why You Just Won't Do As I Say... types. Well... I'm in tailspin, I guess. 20 page notes on how I should do my hair from perfect strangers... Uh... I beg pardon? 2 hour long conversations consisting of why I like things, why I am this or that, or why I fell asleep (either avoiding the conversation or the engine's lull, take your pick.) Why are you weird? Because I'm happier being myself, and get frustrated and anxious when suddenly, I can't even wear a rosary bracelet or eat a damn cup of soup or be quiet without the Spanish Inquisition!

Sad news too... last phone call with Mom, and these are always tough, considering that in between ordering me to relax, complaining about people, which makes me anxious, and discussing touchy subjects... how long do I have to explain, "I need coffee to talk on the phone. I consider coffee food. I do not discuss my former in-laws or related subjects over food?" before it sinks in? she informed me that my great aunt was out of remission. Sad enough. Then, because being last to know wasn't enough, and being scared seeing a fractured family isn't at all frightening, " why'd you hide it from me?" "Um, you just told me."  Yeah. I'm fucking in a spin. I'm trying to cope and get back to myself. I'm running wild trying to be bright, and all the while it feels like when people want answers, I explain 18 Times, it's fucking painful, no one's happy, and I'm beginning to think it MIGHT be preferable to teach Porky to sing   La Traviata  while castrated.

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