This weekend.

Brief recap:

* Worked late Friday.
* Saturday spent feeling like shit, sleeping, and crying.
* Sunday was bad news, bad news, crying, pottery, and sitting in non-moving el train watching paramedics on the platform treating a guy who'd been (?) stabbed and thrown onto the tracks. There was a lot of blood.
* Today, one ear has decided to get all stuffy, head feels like it's composed primarily of cotton,
and I'm trying to pack and prep for another trip to Minneapolis for work.

I'm trying to get it all in perspective, since, well, I haven't been stabbed or needed emergency medical attention lately (knock wood). More of same. I'm so sick of me.

Reasons why this day, like its buddy yesterday, can bite me.

1. Allergies. I don't get them every year, only sometimes. Of course, the year I am spending craploads of time and money to record music, which depends on being in good voice, which can't happen with sinuses filled with snot and a scratchy throat....of course, this year, the allergies show up with a vengeance. Awesome. That whole thing about Tauruses having gorgeous singing voices, but also lots of throat-related health problems: fucking true.

2. Assholes on the train. Two mornings in a row now, I have said "excuse me" to the person standing directly in the walkway between me and the doors, had no response, tapped on shoulder and made eye contact and said "excuse me" again, and the person does not move again. I have been twice now forced to basically walk right over people who apparently don't understand that "excuse me" is a polite warning that you're about to get trampled by a fat girl if you don't fucking move your ass out of her way.

3. Being lectured and/or yelled at during a fire drill. A fucking drill, and I got a guy crawling up my ass because 1.) I'm on the phone when the announcement is made (which I can't help) and am trying to wrap up the phone call professionally while also getting with the drill; 2.) I get ten feet from my desk, then turn around to grab some tissues (see above, re: snot-filled sinuses), so I don't have to use my sleeve while the fire dept. rep tells us stuff about emergency drills as if we have never done one before or are unable to recognize the importance of proper emergency procedures (like, hi...you do know we all work in insurance, right?); and 3.) I'm not properly chastened by the lecture about not going back for stuff or carrying stuff, and refuse to get contrite about it. DUDE. It's a fucking drill, and a tissue is not a cup of fucking hot coffee I'm going to spill. Also, you're up my ass to hurry...I wasn't even the last one out. People can *so* kiss my ass today.

4. There will be no Italian class for the moment. I had to cancel that because of work travel stuff. Also, the pottery class that I paid a premium to take? Yeah, I missed last week's and will also be skipping next week's. You know, three out of five classes. Great. Makes me feel like I need to go in and do assloads of studio time to try and get my money's worth. Or at least learn how to throw a pot on the wheel without turning my hands to hamburger or having both forearms go totally numb. As much as I wish the SFSV was going well...evidence indicates the contrary. Le sigh.

5. I'm having trouble remembering just how very lucky I am. I have a home, a job, people who love me, food to eat, clothes to wear, and luxuries most of the world doesn't. I hate that I feel so craptastic, when by all rights I should be grinning every moment of every day. Hey, Self, yer privilege is showing; you might want to see to that.

Thirty-one today.

Thirty-one today
What a thing to say
Drinking Guinness in the afternoon
Taking shelter in the black cocoon

I thought my life would be different somehow
I thought my life would be better by now
I thought my life would be different somehow
I thought my life would be better by now
But it's not, and I don't know where to turn

- Aimee Mann, "Thirty-one Today"

Typical.

Fun fact to know and yell: salt is an emetic. Funny story how I know this.

So, last night, I went to dinner with my two closest friends to celebrate my birthday (which is next week). This year, I didn't really want a whole lot of hooplah, just a nice evening out with my besties, good food, and tasty margaritas. Lately, it seems like nothing I do turns out quite how I expect or prefer, so I figured something small was most likely to actually be a good time.

Well, there were some planning things that didn't quite pan out, but the evening got off to an okay start. Dinner at Tweet (my fave brunch joint, that now does dinner on Friday nights only) was really amazingly tasty - fresh basil pesto linguine, soooo good. Then, I rocked the red velvet cake (with a candle cunningly stuck to the plate), which was good (but not the best I've had, so the search for genuine red velvet cake continues!). Tasty, tasty, tasty.

After dinner, we went over next door to Big Chicks and started in on the margarita-drenched portion of the evening. We were on our second round, waiting for the dance floor to pick up, when I sucked a mouthful of salt up the straw of my margarita. Awful! I didn't think anything of it, though, after washing the taste out of my mouth with another drink.

A couple minutes later, I'm twisting around to stare at some of the boob-tastic artwork on the wall behind me, when I suddenly start feeling a little green around the gills. I immediately start deep breathing, trying to figure out why I'm nauseated out of the blue. Deep breath. Deep breath.

My observant friend Jen, across the table from me, asks me if I'm okay, and I nod wordlessly. It's about two seconds later that I realize I am not okay. I vaguely think, with some portion of my brain that is able to think beyond the panic infusing my bloodstream with adrenaline and trying to keep my digestive tract calm, that I should head for the bathroom...but I have suddenly been struck by the sensational equivalent of tunnel vision, and I can't think about or focus on anything that isn't about trying not to hurl.

It was futile effort. I won't get into the gory details, but I'll tell you what: I have awesome friends. They got me out of there, home, cleaned up, and would've taken me out again if I hadn't felt like I'd been sucker-punched repeatedly in the gut (not to mention the faceful of burst capillaries that is *still* freaking me out this morning). They went out and brought me a DVD and a Slurpee and then hung out with me making cracks about the latest Bond flick and its retro usage of glass in the action sequences.

So, you know, it wasn't exactly a good birthday outing, but it was in keeping with my luck lately, and I did get a nice reminder of what real friendship really is. I luff my girls.

Most importantly, though, I learned that a mouthful of salt will, in fact, make me projectile vomit everything I've eaten for the past week. Learning experience.

Compare & contrast.

Things attempting to damage my calm today:

* Woman in elevator at office asks if I'm in tomorrow; I'm confused as to why I wouldn't be. Takes me a minute to realize it's Good Friday, which I don't celebrate because I'm not a Christian, but people assume I'm Christian until/unless I tell them otherwise. Somehow I thought the black nail polish and dyed red hair would be enough to project a stereotype here! Maybe I should start wearing my pentacle to work? Or more tattoos....hmmm...

* Coming through the security doors on my floor of the building, I vaguely hear footsteps before the door closes behind me. A woman says, "Thanks" in total sarcastic mode. What, the eyes in the back of my head were supposed to let me know you wanted me to hold the door? 'Cause clearly you're able to speak....but weren't able to ask me to hold the door since you were, uh, BEHIND ME?

* This article pulled from the Sudan Tribune, talking about the dangers of colonialism inherent in so much charity related to African countries. Makes me question where the donations I've made to "Save Darfur" are really going. Sonuvabitch! But a good reminder to me to do the effin' research before sending money to anything. Intentions are important, but thorough knowledge doesn't hurt. Time to wade into learning more about Sudan, I think.

* E-mails from family members basically telling me I don't trust Yahweh enough and also am un-American for thinking taxes make a better society. Yes, taxes suck, but the alternative sucks worse. Also, stop trying to convince me to have faith in Jesus.

* Danny Glover speaks truth about the Obama administration and racism. A bummer, but also informative.


Things helping me hold on to sanity:

* Ellen Brown preaches to this choir about how banks are totally fucking evil. Maybe not in those words.

* The Mayer explains a fear exercise I love to hate.

* I have started a trend of reflexively un-friending or un-following or un-subscribing stuff that bugs me. I love Chicago Honey Co-op, for example, but yesterday, they were pimping out some article or program or something or other talking about "get off your fat ass and bike to work." Which, you know, just doesn't seem like it's gonna be anything but a bunch of "omg I'm so fat and lazy and disgusting, I need to bike - oh, and starve, too - my way to a socially acceptable body," and you know...I just don't feel like wading through that kinda bullshit just to hear about how the local honeybees are doing. Buh-bye! Ditto bloggers or Facebook friends who are dieting, proselytizing, selling something, or posting total nonsense. Someday I may crawl out of the echo chamber...or maybe not. For now, my brain really appreciates relaxing its tolerance muscles a little. I mean, they get enough exercise at the office, anyway.

* Elle posting at Shakesville about water. This is a beautiful, heartbreaking post.

* Speaking of really awesome posts that tear me up, there's this one from Beth at Fake Plastic Fish, one of my fave green blogs.

* This playlist:

"Slow Dancing in a Burning Room" - John Mayer
"I Got a Name" - Jim Croce
"Mr. Curiosity" - Jason Mraz
"A Case of You" - Jane Monheit covering Joni Mitchell
"The Part Where You Let Go" - Hem
"The Shape I Found You In" - Girlyman
"Running on Faith" - Eric Clapton
"Comfort You" - Denison Witmer covering Van Morrison
"One Good Year" - Slaid Cleaves
"I Drive Alone" - Esthero
"St. Peter" - David Ford
"Rootless Tree" - Damien Rice
"By Way of Sorrow" - Cry, Cry, Cry
"Heart of the Matter" - India.Arie covering Don Henley
"They Were Wrong" - Matthew Ryan
"Dear Chicago" - Ryan Adams
"She's Out of My Life" - Josh Groban covering Michael Jackson
"Mexico" - Kim Richey covering CAKE
"Say It To Me Now" - Glen Hansard
"31 Today" - Aimee Mann
"Spilt Milk" - Matt Duke
"Ain't No Love" - David Gray
"Gravity" - John Mayer

SFSV: the latest.

(So, I'm starting my summer vacay in spring. I know. Semantics, people.)

Two parts of the Stress Free Summer Vacay (SFSV) plan of action are taking a bunch of classes, and working on recording an album.

On the taking classes side, things are a bit dicey thus far....although Metromix was present with a TV camera to interview me about my experience, the drum class I planned to take may not pan out after all, due to low enrollment. (Seriously, if you have $95 to spare, live in Chicago, and have any interest in accompanying bellydancers, this is totally the right class! Click here and SIGN UP ASAP, or it's cancellation city.) Classes on the agenda a bit down the road: pottery at Lillstreet, Italian at Discovery Center, and maybe some workshops at Chicago Hot Glass. I may add another language or something, if the drum class doesn't pan out. We shall see.

On the music side of the house, I met a guitarist/engineer/producer last night that I'm going to be working with to sort out an album's worth of tunage and get it all laid down right and proper. No half-ass demo shit, no "adequate but not spectacular" shit...I'm going for polish, which means hiring other people to do the work that isn't songwriting and singing. The first step of that is done, and now I just have to funnel money and time into the project to wrap it up. I suspect it may take months. And I'm mostly okay with that.

In other news, I've sorted my feed reader with a Pollyanna filter, so hopefully I can stop worrying about the fucking fiscal disaster on Wall Street and start regrowing all the brain cells that were killed in the rage...

Things that are true.

I've been trying not to marinate in depression since my grandma died in December, and having various levels of success. The fact that other things in my life are genuinely sucking (no matter how fucking lucky I really am when I put things in perspective, shitty stuff is still shitty and I think it's okay for me to not like it), some of which have been within my control and some of which have not, has not helped matters in this regard.

I'm also feeling some Rage-Against-the-Machine fatigue. Spending every day reminding myself how much bullshit is going on in the world, it's weighing on me. Rampant misogyny, lack of marriage equality, capitalist shenanigans, people living in poverty and oppression and hunger and disease and war-zones and wage slavery and toxic environments, global warming, yada yada. I'm having trouble finding a thought in my head that doesn't fill me with dread and despair. And, you know, that can't be good.

So. Plan of action: Summer Vacay.

I think I might just give myself permission to stop fighting the patriarchy, keeping up with current events, or trying to reduce my environmental impact. I don't know if I actually can pull it off anymore, but I think I'm gonna try. I'm gonna take some classes (Drumming! Pottery! Italian! Whee!), see a lot of movies, get out of town a bit, go shopping whenever I want, and see if I can't get the ulcer to chill out, the sleep to come back, and the upper back to unclench.

And if that doesn't work, well...I may just be more Goth than I thought.

Well, folks, it's been kind of a shitty few days...

Without going into all the gory, whiny-ass details, here are the bullet points:

* It rained, my bedroom flooded, and this will very likely be a huge fucking pain in my ass sometime in the near future.

* My fabu custom boots from Australia? Took a month to get here, didn't fit and smelled funny. Sending them back for another pair. Thin veneer of high hopes over a gaping pit of black fury and bitterness. Yay!

* I'm a fucking jackass who managed to bump a cement column in a parking garage while returning a carshare vehicle, scratching the passenger door all to fuck. No word yet on the damages, but goodbye to a couple hundred bucks minimum, I'm sure. (Hilariously, earlier that day I made a crack about hitting some doofus because my damage waiver was only $500. I should learn to shut the fuck up.)

There are some very good things I'm working on to counteract the steaming pile of shit outlined above...but it's all still in diaphonous process, as compared to the very here-and-now certainty of suckitude that's been parading through my life as if I invited it. Which, you know, on some cosmic level I'm sure I did, karma being what it is. Although, not for nothing, but whose cornflakes did I piss in?!

Meanwhile, here's a little public service message from me to you, jerkoff assfaces of the world: the phrase "sorry if you took it the wrong way" may *seem* like it's some kind of apology (what with the starting with the word "sorry" and all), but in fact, it's not. It's a nonpology. It actually conveys the message: "You're an oversensitive whinyass booby who can't take a joke. You oughtta lighten up and realize that the only reason you're pissed off is because you don't even know what's good for you. Which *I* clearly do, so do what I tell you, bitch!" Yeah, stop saying that, unless you like hearing me say "fuck off."

In other news, I may be making a surprise flying trip to Boston for work, sometime in the next couple weeks - not certain yet, but it could happen (regardless of whether I want it to or not). And that goes along with the fact that here I am, still at the office at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday. Fuck me, I'm going home.