I guess I’m up this early because of tequila and pizza sending me and M to an early bed. God, I didn’t want or need that level of junk food, even if it tasted fucking delicious. and it was lovely to have K pick the episodes of Lost Girl, since I usually go for the same handful. five slices, man. FIVE SLICES.
sleep was rly weird last night, though. I kept having iterations of the same dream. being at work and running into cute coworker, or contriving to, or thinking about it. the building was totally different, though… it was almost like we were part of some weird fucking strip mall (why would anyone want us there) and if you walked far enough through our stuff, you’d come to a makeup store. not sure what was on the other side. despite that feeling of constantly waiting and contriving and being aware of him/his absence/whatever, my brain decided that he and i would barely ever run into each other, and if we did, like…. no words would be exchanged. how un-exciting and disappointing. at one point i woke up and refilled my water bottle and tried to talk at whatever part of my brain might be responsible for this travesty, letting it know that it would be more fun if there was kissing and/or sex involved. or to pick a different dream.
i didn’t get dream sex but i got a different dream. being in the city. i remember at one point being near some fucking… weird-ass trolley thing, the end of the track, in a big field kind of like at the Center by the fountain. except it felt like it was maybe slightly farther uptown. there was a… wall, maybe a tunnel where the trolley could come out, across the field. on the left, when it was approaching us + the end of the track, the art on the ground and on the trolley was of nyan cat. when it switched over to the track on the right to go back the other way, the art over there was of tac nayn, and the trolley would also transform to reflect this. so fucking weird. xD i love it. the next thing i really remember is being in a semi-shadowy room, lighting kinda scarce but giving a gentle, warm, reddish glow. like some of m’s string lights. could’ve been a remix of our place. probably was. rushi was there. we were all talking. m was lying on the floor between the couch and glass table for some reason, i was sitting, he was standing. at one point he struck up a conversation by asking if either of us had ever watched a show called “poops dumps”. that’s…. even funnier when i’m typing it out. neither m nor i had seen or heard of it, but my main response was to squeeze in next to m and say to her, “hi it’s vince with poops dumps” and cause (1) her to huff with anger and amusement, and (2) rushi to actually laugh at something we’d said. after everyone had recovered, he either described the show to us briefly or showed us a clip, and it was just…. people recording themselves on their phones while they took a shit. just faces, mind you, like any old selfie.
shortly thereafter, i woke up and took a shit, sans recording. lmao.
the other thing that was weird about sleep was the couple of times where, very briefly, i felt intense dizziness. it woke me up both times and was powerful enough that i felt anxious that i was going to have to throw up, but it abated so quickly. so weird. not sure if tequila-and-pizza-related, or maybe more just overtime stress-related. i’ve been surprised that i haven’t had MORE side effects of stress, honestly. haven’t been getting great sleep, pulling 12-hour days, all this ridiculous business with cute coworker keeping my heart rate up and my armpits way too sweaty, running up and down the stairs frequently. if the election was enough to make my chest feel like it was being squeezed to death, this…. what is this? not to mention how much drinking there’s been this week. my poor body. :/ i… need to work out. fuck. i need a doctor. i need a job with health insurance. i need the energy to job hunt and be a worthwhile candidate. i need a doctor. 😛 OH almost forgot on top of these things, my fucking car started acting up again this week. i think i’ve isolated it to maybe only happening when i’m braking and going rly slowly and turning the wheel a certain amount, which is something i’ve noticed before…. it’s also a little delayed when i’m shifting gears. well. not just delayed. the rpms drop a startling amount. that’s the whole thing. it acts like it might stall–thankfully, i guess, hasn’t happened yet *knocks on wood and bird* and i feel helpless and terrified. what i need to do is look at the list of known issues from the place that sold it to me and make a phone call tmrw when the mechanic a few blocks over is open again. and do some more googling. jesus fucking christ. with the low mileage i bought it at, this was supposed to be a good fucking car that lasted and didn’t have a bunch of bullshit. fuck. </3 i’m sorry i don’t know how to handle you, at least not yet.
it would be good to go to the mall area today and buy some perfume and maybe stop by home depot and attempt, *attempt* to get some matches for the paint.
if busy season is going to give me another good paycheck or two, it would be nice to get a couple of bigger-ticket items. like finally getting my fucking tattoo, if my acne behaves long enough :P. like finally finishing the new build. and like…. if i took out of savings, i’d have enough for the tattoo whenever i wanted. god, do they even still have my art on file? it’s been almost two years since my initial appointment. what shitty fucking timing. if i’d gone in without a specific artist in mind, maybe i could have gotten it done before i got laid off instead of sitting on the waitlist until it was too late. and now, after having m snap that area repeatedly with a rubber band as hard as possible, i’m kind of terrified of how much it will hurt, or at least that i won’t be able to handle it. or both.
phone bill due soon. thinking about upgrading this os, starting to be less worried about app compatibility.
nobody would want *me* for a job, lbr. i will probably lose my parents’ health insurance and not have anything to replace it. oh good yes let’s overwhelm ourselves with helpless thoughts