puttin it out there.

I'm wondering how legit it is to write a post about having nothing to write about. Lately I've been thinking about writing a post that is decently arranged, witty, and has a point but I think I've got so many things to say that I loose my place...

Where am I?
Well. I can tell you that the one thing I will ever remember about this summer is loosing my mind on a trip. In a tent. Mid-June. I thought I half way lost my mind until the manifestation of one BAD ASS case of strep throat that left me feeling physically weak and famished, full marble loss confimed with the addition of the twice devil "spirit" card. (I felt so shitty that for fun, I did a "mind, body, spirit" reading on myself in which I pulled the DEATH card as my "spirit" card-two weeks in a row.) How fitting. Thats how I felt. Like my spirit was DEAD.

I realized, but all I could do was wait it out. I really thought about checking myself into the hospital because I was sure the thoughts I was having were NOT normal. But that would cost too much, so I concentrated on focusing on positive things. Even when the positive thought of the day was "I didn't feel like puking after that bite of food" my mantra was "It could be ALOT worse."

I got the tickets to the weekend concert "in part" because my ex-boyfriend was playing on Saturday afternoon. I say "in part" because I got the tickets for doing a 45+ hour illustration for a CD that was actually not the right art direction and never used. I'm fine with that, and thankful- although it ended up costing me more to go to this thing (even though the tickets were free) than I should have been spending. Lesson learned. While at the amazing concert I decided to make it really fun and that's when 5th Ave. did me in. I found the hippy with the shrooms and ate some - well, ate A LOT.

This was wrong for so many reasons so I'm going to fast forward past the part where I began to think the hippie boys were going to rape us, the violent vomiting outside the concert walls, the woman that offered me tissues and the sister-like friend with me- that couldn't do a thing (although trying) to comfort me, the desperation I felt while running back to the tent, past the part where my mind was convinced that I had just poisoned it with psilocybins and I'm dealing by telling myself to "try and calm down. to go with it. and relax." The problem was that as soon as that thought reached my cognitive thinking it was meant with a response something like "GGRRRRAAAAUUUGGGHHHNOOOoooooOOO!YOURALLALONE!!!MWwwwAaaaAHaHaaH." Lesson learned.

I go to the tent and dove inside, snapped into the fetal position under the sleeping bag and kept saying to myself "time. TIME. time. TIME". Eventually a series of giggles would come bubbling out, but a soon as I sat up it was a less than perfect idea.

My phone was dead I wanted to talk to the ex-bf who was somewhere backstage. All I wanted in the whole wide world at that point in time was to talk with him. I can honestly say with every given conviction inside me that I would have SERIOUSLY given up my next few breaths for a moment of comfort.

I know he's not my bf anymore, and he hasent been for 3 stinking years. The only way I can explain it is that after 5 years of together and almost 3 years apart I still felt like he is the only one that knows me inside and out. He's encouragement to me. He is honest-safe. He had promised me in the past that he would be there immediently if I was ever in trouble and I took it to heart. I guess I put too much into the past situation emotionally because when I finally facilitated to turn on the car to plug in my phone, to dial the number, to get him on the other end, I got laughed at. He thought I was alright, I guess, he told me to have fun and relax. although you don't often hear me say "ITSBAD.ITSBAD.ITSBADBADBADBADBAAAAAAAD." on the other end of the phone. Then my phone died completely and I COULDN'T. COULD NOT. get the motor skills together to plug it back in. Lesson learned.

I just knew at that moment when he said the phone cut out and he didn't know where I was, that it was the universe telling me to stop living in the past and to giddy-up. I anticipated a voice mail from him from after my phone died so suddenly but nothing. These were not the actions of the man I knew three years ago.

The saturn advice of the old haggard librarian came back to me once again....
"...because honey, one day he's not going to be around and then where will your library card be?" hah, well. His is on the main stage and mine, well it's still here in Youngstown right where he left it. (this is in no way, shape or form a blaming statment. I know that's possessively my problem)

I thought I was fine, I found out it was an emotional facade. I have that love, I know. But it's now in a little box with a bow rather than on my sleeve. No matter how much I miss it, or him. That's the way it has to be because that's the way things are.

I'm trying to work through what just happend on the phone and I look up to see my friend, my BELOVED friend sitting on top her car tripping - alone.
NOW I'm trying to work through the poison in my body, the phone call, and seeing her alone in that state feeling a bit shunned because of my requests for him. I'm sure and embarrased to say I was the one gung-ho for finding some shrooms, and now the emotions are REALLY of wack because I could not explain to her my reasons for wanting him and not her.

I survived the night to wake up feeling like I did something VERY wrong. I felt like something inside me schrivelled up and died. Got back home and had to deal with the job offer I got at this fabulous little advertising agency. I was really excited about it, until I got offered a wage comparable to and less than a tele-marketing position. I felt a bit insulted - with a degree, expereince and skills that were worth more than the offer. I understand it's a small business and all, but I gotta live at least. I'm sure he was playing on my NEEDING a job so I turned it down, with no money in the bank. I felt I had to. I was really wanting that job too.

Well, kinda really because now I have got a job making more money than if I took that one and I can still do the barn work and ride, and whatever else freelance I have. I'm feeling much better and pretty much returned to normal me. Most days I work three jobs. It's much better than sulking. I say that because even though when in the height of misery I KNOW that it will get better but it doesn't just HAPPEN overnight. It takes time.



It has taken me a few months but I've gathered my marbles. I feel like I have survived a breakdown of some type. I feel like writing again but I have nothing to write about.