previously recorded from Kellys couch

This weekends thoughts go to my journal for the women's retreat

sup full moon 🌕

transcend the mundane

* brought to you by costar app

Mundane existence. That is the existential dread rearing its head. I am not supposed to be an accountant. It's just a means to an end, right? But it's more exhausting than that and its a trap. The deeper I get, it becomes more performative. Do I want to strive to get ahead? Take development courses? They want a bachelor's degree before you can become a manager. I don't want to do any of this. I just want to make enough money to live and not be emotionally exhausted by 4pm. I want my coworker to retire instead of moving the goal posts. She is an emotional vampire, everyone knows it. And nobody calls her on it though today I told her not to roll her eyes at me. Sometimes I hope something happens to force her into retirement. Maybe a small stroke. I don't know if I can handle her until 2025. 

The kicker: she likes me. This is her being nice to me. So I pretend to be her friend because that's what you do at work. I don't really like her at all. I feel sorry for her.

The resources: money. The things I have been buying compulsively are pretty things or broken things or dusty things. Projects. I see things and I want to make other pretty things and then either sell them or honestly, have other people look at the things and say "oh skindee, you are so good at making things pretty, you are so talented, you are an artist, here is a million dollars so you can open your own store with your own vibes" and people will flock or not and I can just hang out and chill and make art all day or go treasure hunting at thrift shops for inventory. 

These stores exist and are owned by stay at home moms as tax shelters. What I actually need is a booth or a shelf at a collective or an etsy. 

I was looking into Debtors Anonymous so I did some binge shopping tonight. Kinda like the day before a diet. Must stockpile.

Love my house. I have crafted (almost) every room into an homage of my shifting moods. Each room has its own vibe. The dining room is black and white, red accents, witchy goth meets The China Garden (the old school chinese restaurant down by the dam in my hometown). The living room is rich jewel tones, gold, dark brown furniture, and vintage cat figurines keep watch from the crown molding around the door frames. The parlor/office was first so its the most Chip & Joanna, soft blues and grays, white furniture. Elegant. The kichen is a sunny teal and more vintage finds. My bedroom is everything purple and feminine and the walls are crammed with art by women and my crystal. The spare room is claiming its identity as The Rainbow Room as it becomes my art room and I strung christmas lights to offset the weird angles and north window. Unicorn art and all the weird things, stickers, magazine photos, cool cards ... the collage wall I never had in college. Its the art room and I embrace my inner child. She decorates tbnis one.

I still hate my neighborhood. It is also a trap.

I have an escape plan. Or at least I'm inspired to create one.

a lack of appreciation & a practical matter

Have you ever had your debit card decline at The Dollar Tree? Man, what the fuck is even my life?

Everyone is pushing me to my limit.  What is a nervous breakdown if not being pushed into snapping by everyone wanting something from you, expecting things from you, and there not being enough hours in a day that I can not do everything I am expected to do AND do what I want to do?  I feel like I am saying the same thing every day.  This is my end of day rumination.  This is the beginning of my new plan to sit down at 9pm every night, blog or journal it out so I am not up until midnight or one o'clock scrolling and ruminating in my head and then having weird vivid dreams in which I am some kind of sociopath that is really only reflective of the shit I've been watching (right? ..... right? ...?)

I have yet to actually do it at 9pm but it's only day 2.  I started at 10pm then just took a 30 minute sidebar to look for stickers to send to my aunt in her birthday card that will likely be late.  One of the things I was going to purchase at the dollar tree was a card for her (among others) then I looked in my drawer of other cards and there was a birthday aunt card I had already signed and forgot to mail to a different aunt and luckily I didn't write on the envelope so thank you kismit I guess?

KISMIT is only a word when capitalized I guess. Thanks, blogger.

Today's creepy horoscope keeps bringing up relationships.  I am trying not to think about relationships.  I haven't been to therapy in a month but go next week.

I see my boyfriend for about ... a day and a half on weekends.  Usually late Friday nights when he is done with work, and he goes home Sunday morning to afternoon, usually earlier now because football.  And when he is here I think, this isn't so bad.  We enjoy each other's company for the most part I think.  I sometimes get annoyed with him.  He is a bit of a child.  I don't know that I have ever referred to him as a man.  He is a boy.  A big ol' baby boy but he buys me things and pays for my meals and I dumped him because of the drinking and when he cried and cried and I agreed to give him another chance he did stop drinking, at least around me.  I did not institute a weed rule though so sometimes he might overdo it on the Delta 8 or real thc if he hasn't gobbled or vaped everything up from the last time we ran to Illinois.  Then he's kind of an idiot baby boy.  So I take a 10 mg gummy and get lost in an adult coloring book.   

My problem is that during the week, when he is gone, I think about how and when I might be able to get out of this.  And then I feel guilty.  It's all the same old codependent shit.  I can't handle his reaction to being broken up with.  Even if I make it about me, he makes it about him.  I feel fucking trapped.  I feel like I want to be alone, all the time.  Maybe that is depression or anxiety.  I think that if/when I were single I would not try to date.  And I don't think I've ever dated without trying, without being on the apps or going to bars and shoving my tits in someone's face.  I walk around with resting bitch face, fucking talking to myself these days, having conversations in my head while making the external facial expressions like a fucking crazy person -- dudes are not coming up to me in stores.  The only store I go into is The Dollar Tree because they don't have curbside pickup.

Wait, the interloper next door tries to talk to me.  Fucking Randy.  He has ex-con written all over his face.  Not literally but it's the way he says "knowma sayn?" I think he goes and sits on the deck smoking cigarettes waiting for me to get home at 4:45.  Usually I try to avoid eye contact.  Sometimes he leans on the railing and stares at my house.  I can already tell he is going to be back for the winter, probably packing the fucking snow down again in my driveway.  Maybe I'll kill him before he kills me.

Seriously my cat is at the top of the stairs  yelling at me to come to bed.

Anyways the point was that I don't know if I really want to be alone or if it is fear or depression or anxiety.  I don't know if the lack of passion in my relationship is menopause or just reality.  I think almost everyone settles.  Romance is a myth.  We're friends.  We're companions.  I don't want to live with him.  I certainly can go a day without talking to him.  I'm 44.  I've been waiting for lightning to strike in many ways and I think it's time to grow up and realize that it's climate change baby and we're in a fucking drought.

Getting bleak maybe.  Almost 11pm.  Can I be asleep by midnight?  Can I keep the phone at least across the aisle from my bed so I don't buy shit in my sleep?  I have plans. I don't have any execution.

I need an executioner.  

;)

a human party bus

Its always right.

I'm not eating or smoking or drinking really. So I'm buying things, mostly online and in bed.

I have been noticing seashells more often. I did a puddle this morning and my toes were wet all day. 

one of my recent Temu binges included a sticker that says everything is temporary.

I have been having weird disassociative feelings, dizziness, spacieness accompanied with swirling epiphanies that I can't even capture or articulate fully. They are half baked. Maybe its a brain tumor. Or a midlife crisis. Perhaps a spiritual awakening. New meds. Crippling anxiety.

I wish for many things. I wish for discipline. I wish my boyfriend would leave me. I wish a fairy would clean my house.  I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish for a hundred thousand dollars.