Over the weekend, I happened to catch five seconds of bad late-night-movie-ness. It was "The Fly" - a movie I have never seen in its entirety because the transformation of Jeff Goldblum from nerdy-hotness to creepy-bad-special-effects-freakiness makes me want to cry. The five seconds I caught were particularly disgusting, and I have literally been fighting my gag reflex ever since.
Dude, no joke, I am mainlining Altoids for their anti-nausea properties.
Shit like that is why I don't watch horror movies people. Two days spent trying not to gag everytime I'm not totally focused on whatever I'm doing. It's gross.
So I think I figured out the central issue that's got me discombobulated of late.
It's not about me.
And I don't mean that in the dramaqueen antidote sense, nor in the frustrated princess sense. I'm not reminding myself that I'm not the center of the universe, or bemoaning my lack of spotlight. My thing is that for the past few months, I have been way caught up in other people's stuff. I have latched onto drama and more drama, suckered by that damn 12th house Cancer Moon into getting caught up in everyone's situations....making myself unhappy because people I love are unhappy.
And let's not sugarcoat it, shit has been happening left-right-center lately, mostly to everyone around me. It's tough not to feel sorrow when loved ones are suffering.
Trick is, I can't help any of these situations. I don't have time or money to play fairy-god-sister-auntie-girlfriend, much as it pains me, and all the worrying about them doesn't help anything.
It does, however, lead me to not sleep, to not eat, to not take care of myself the way I like to (I mean, really, I gave myself a pedicure over the weekend for the first time in I don't even know how long!), to get away with shit I'm not letting myself get away with anymore. And all of that only contributes to my bad mood, to all the negative shit that I took on to start the whole damn vicious cycle.
Well, you know what? Fuck that noise. It is all about me, here in my life, anyway. I am not dancing to anybody's drum but mine, which means every week, I get one day to clean my house, do my laundry, and trim, buff, sand, and paint my extremities while eating bon-bons in my pajamas. That is my recharge time. That is my quality time with my cats. That is my call-my-family time. That's MY time. And I haven't been giving it to me. No wonder I'm pissed.
So....somehow, I need to find a way to do all the stuff I need to do, and still make that time for me. I'm appealing to the Goddess for a 36 hour day next full moon!
Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.