Breakdown: the Sequel

guess what? i’m falling apart again. except let’s throw a party this time. you’re all invited.

but i’m not falling apart so much emotionally. i mean i’m always a little haywire emotionally, but it’s mainly physically. my sleep-deprived mind exists in some funhouse half-world between reality and dreamstate.

on a sidenote: you’ll all be happy to know that my sister, who let it be said about her, has neither confirmed nor denied that she actually reads my blog…it’s possible she receives the information from secondhand sources, informed me this morning that “my bloggo has been hilarious lately.” well gracious me! which part really tickled your chin, dearest? the existential crisis or the freak out that happened right before it? in any case, glad it hit the spot. one woman’s drama is another woman’s sitcom.

anyway, yes, i’m a shadow of the girl i used to be. it’s these damn tape transcriptions, they’re running my life. they talk down to me, throw their weight around and basically tell me i’m not up to the challenge. they’re sapping me of those precious, crucial 1 or 2 hours of sleep that are the critical ones between me being an acceptable human being and me being an apple core of a soul: spacy, directionless, full of apathy, can often be found in a trash can near you.


my clothes today are beyond unkempt. if you could characterize my outfit today, it would be “Child’s First Day of Dressing Herself” meets “Fairweather Hobo.” yesterday my coworker ben applauded me for wearing a t-shirt and sweats to the work. i didn’t even realize my transgression. it hadn’t even occurred to me until he pointed it out that i looked like an absolute beast straight from the bedroom. well, today, i aimed higher, but not much. at least, yesterday almost appeared like some kind of bold statement of casual. today just looks like an experiment in self-determination gone wrong.

i couldn’t find my overalls this morning, y’see.

my pants are wrinkled, corduroy and blue. paintstains? check. folded at the bottom because they’re too long and hence look like handmedowns (from the street)? check. my top is in denial of my bottom. white buttondown shirt. wrinkled? check. over pink inappropriate work t-shirt? check. black zip-up sweatshirt over everything with only one sleeve on? check. that’s right. i wore only one sleeve of a sweatshirt to work today. the other one fell off and i was too lazy to put it back on. i enjoyed making direct eye contact with everyone i passed, as if to say “yeah, i work too. you wear business slacks. i just slack.” let’s not even enter the shoes into the equation. someone’s head might explode.

i had to sit on my bed for 10 minutes this morning trying to figure out how one “gets ready.” i forgot what that involved. after i brushed my teeth (that one came to me, phew) i sat down and wrote a list: brush hair, change clothes, put in contacts, but i got really worn out halfway through the list and had to take a break. then i got up and walked to one side of the room. and blanked on the list. so i went back and checked, and finally even managed to get in the right mindset to take a shower.

i guess i forgot my brain today.

so i get to work today. i can’t remember anything. i’m wearing this weird headband/faux-bandanna. this is already weirder than a dream. so i go to freshen up in the bathroom. i decide to try and make the headband look more presentable, and less like a desperate mountaineer clinging to the cliff of my head. i put my hands to my hair…and i feel…CRUNCHY. my hair is CRUNCHY. yes like all-bran, granola, whatever you associate with the word. it’s freaking twigs and sticks up there.

my love, what did i do to you?!

and then i come to the joyous conclusion that i never washed the conditioner out of my head this morning. yes, i have created my own revolution of leave-in conditioner. except it’s not actually the leave-in kind, it’s the WASH-out kind, aparnastupidhead. it makes me mad that if you wash conditioner out, it makes your hair soft, but if you leave it in, it makes it brittle and freakish. so now i look like a weird clown. i had to basically take a shower in the work sink. but the renegade entity is still in there in clumps and mushy gobs. fantastic.

i’m just going to spend the rest of the day spacing out some more and thinking about nothing, and occasionally, just so often reaching up and patting myself on the head, just to confirm and reconfirm my mental capacities these days.

also i can only feel one of my buttocks. in some attempt at exercise, as i haven’t been getting any lately, i’ve been running up the 6 flights of stairs to my office. this has led to no visible endorphin rush but a definite paralysis of the right buttcheek and a tendency for my right calf to seize and cramp at unexpected, uncalled-for moments.

carpe diem.

4 thoughts on “Breakdown: the Sequel

  1. Tara says:

    Hahaha, you crack me up! We could almost match today. Im wearing a black t-shirt with a beer logo on it, and green pants that SHOULD have a belt, but I decided I was too lazy to put on. planning = all consuming, brain draining tiredness, and therefor work can suck it up when i dress like a bum on the street.

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