Tired.

The weight of fatigue showers my body, drowning me in a listless haze as I try to put synapse firing into typing words.

I came out here to get back to routine after spending a few days at my aunt’s and cousin’s in the Bay Area for Thanksgiving.

I’m tired.

I got sick from staying at a house of recovering relatives.

It’ll last a day or two, but eventually I’ll get back to normal.

* * *

I was supposed to continue writing my pages this weekend, but I had to postpone it for another week because of this. I can’t even put thoughts into words nor even brainstorm or see the next few scenes.

I have an idea or a general direction as to where I need to go, but I just can’t today. It’s not going to happen today. Not today.

Even these words don’t make much sense nor are they any good.

I’ll have to manage.

* * *

Tired.

The drive up north was stressful.

I don’t think I have hated driving so much in my life as I was stuck behind late holiday travelers who thought they’d hit the road early to get to the bay area like me.

They just don’t know how to drive as I was stuck behind brake tappers and just inconsiderate drivers who like to cruise stroll in the passing lane like they are no other drivers on the road.

By two hours into the drive, I was ready to stop and grab a drink. Whiskey. Liquor. Libations. I needed it.

But when I got to my destination, things go better.

I settled down and just caught up with Cynthia and just chatted.

We talked about everything from my shrink, to me not wanting to be in a relationship and how my mom cries because her sons haven’t provided her with any grandchildren yet.

We talked about children and how I want them, but not necessarily a relationship and how I have looked into adopting and what that entails.

Out of everyone in my family, she’s the one that knows more about what is happening in my life.

We talked about my brother and how I saw so much great change in him and also about my father and how feel guilty about his death and how going to the shrink is helping me through that issue.

We talked about how she was doing, how her mom and her siblings were doing. It was a good talk, a chat, a tete-a-tete that was much needed.

It was just great to do that, to spend that time with family.

My aunt for the most part seemed fine, as she seemed really happy to have seen me at dinner. But it seems that she’s non-stop keeping busy, not resting or sitting, but always having to do something. I agree with Cynthia that she thinks it is a way for her mom to distract herself from everything.

It was kind of funny how Auntie told Cynthia to cook me dinner that night, thinking that she would be so rude as to make me fend for myself. It was also funny that Auntie called later that night to see if I had eaten, if not to go over to her place to eat.

Funny.

Family will always be family and I am glad that I am able to have that connection with them.

Like I said in many earlier posts of mine, I am the connecting point of all family; those of the west coast, the south, and those on the east coast.

Maybe that’s why me wanting a family is so important to me and not necessarily having a relationship.

* * *

Tired.

Sick.

Fatigued.

I can’t put thoughts into words. All things are elusive.

Healing. Slowly, but surely, the rational is pushing the irrational aside.

Slow and steady it is making its way into my consciousness. How long do I have to go? I don’t know.

I’ve always been a rational creature. I’m very pragmatic. It just makes sense.

Time to make a change.

* * *

Tired.

The day moves slow. Seconds tick by in what feel like minutes, hours. Time slows while you are sick so you can feel every extended second in misery. Pain. Ill.

* * *

I can’t put any thoughts together and to think I thought I would be able to actually do any creative writing today, working on my script and what not.

That is not the case when all that fills my thoughts is sleep.

Oh the beautiful comfort of my bed, caressing the sore tired body. Oh, the tenderness of being horizontal, curled up in fetal.

Oh my bed, my bed!

* * *

Goodbye my almost lover. Goodbye my hopeless dream. I’m trying not to think about you.

It is time and you know it. It time.

* * *

Here I am, back at it again, not doing what I’m supposed to do.

There’s just a lot on my mind, and most of it has to do with Pickles. Lately he’s been having some incontinence issues, more so than usual so I wanted to get him checked out. I took him to the vet again and again for more and more tests and finally, today should be the last test.

The vet suspects that he might have Addison’s disease, which basically boils down to low testosterone ’cause one of his glands aren’t working properly. Reading the symptoms, he doesn’t have many of the symptoms, besides the incontinence.

Pickles isn’t lethargic, doesn’t vomit or have diarrhea, unless there’s a specific reason for it, like getting into food he shouldn’t be getting into.

So, as of right now, the final tally of vet bill is about $800+ and my pet insurance won’t cover for any of it because I have changed it down to accident coverage only because the premiums are outrageous. I’m going to have to cancel his policy tomorrow, ’cause there’s really no point in continuing it since most of the things that he’ll go in for wont’ be covered and I’m already paying a lot out of pocket.

So, policy will be gone.

All this time, I’m mad at Pickles because he’s costing me so much money even though he’s not at fault. He didn’t do anything. He just might have this disease and it is beyond his control, but I’m still mad at him, ’cause it is getting expensive.

Selfish. I’m just selfish. I just need to focus on Pickles and hope that he’ll be okay after everything and that he’ll be fine, whether he does have Addison’s or not.

I won’t get the test results back until tomorrow or Tuesday and Pickles is still at the vet. He was so scared and not having any of it when they took him away.

If he does have Addison’s care should be simple. He’ll have to take steroid supplements daily, I believe, and he’ll need to get monthly shots.

He’s getting old and this is what happens. I just need to allow for it.

It is beyond my control and I just have to deal with it and to just let it go.

Just let it go.

* * *

For some reason, it seems I’m just having more and more judgmental thoughts and I don’t for the life of me understand why. It is definitely bothering me and I just need to stop it.

Just stop it.

I don’t like this, so I just need to stop it.

* * *

I’m supposed to be working on my script today, working it out with Scott that my 10 pages aren’t due next week but in two weeks instead ’cause I do want to update the pages that I have because of what was discussed at the writer’s group yesterday.

The group was good. I had a good time discussing Scott’s script and dissecting Danya’s idea for her script and then just listening to the critique and taking notes for my script. They were good notes and I do see the problems that they had and I’ll make changes accordingly, but there are some that I will still want to keep.

I’ll just see what happens when I do it and I still need to focus on the last half of the script, working out the logistics and everything.

But, I think I can manage and finish it at the pace that I am currently going. I don’t see why I wouldn’t finish it.

* * *

Addison’s is something that humans can’t get also. I’m a hypochondriac and now I’m wondering if I have it since I feel so lethargic, but I don’t vomit or have diarrhea or be dehydrated.

I think I just need to not think about that.

* * *

I missed my chance. I had an opportunity and I totally dropped it. Man, what was I thinking?

Things had always been awkward between her and me anyway, but it seems that things are getting easier. She’s easier to talk to or to even start talking too. There’s no shyness or even any awkwardness. There is some semblance of playfulness in our interactions, but most of it, no.

But I definitely had an opportunity and I missed it. Damn my brain. Curse it.

I asked to borrow her laptop so I can do a speedtest on the wifi in a particular area of the second floor and the first thing she says to me is to not laugh.

I grabbed it and looked at the group picture that was on her screen. It was a group of creatives and production people all dressed in white and her sitting in the front, wearing a weird little blue shirt. I didn’t even recognize her really, but thinking back, it was her.

“Do I get it?” I shook my head, nope. She points to someone, “What’s that?”

“Grace”

“No, what color?”

“White.”

Now, she points to her shirt, “That?”

I shook my head. No clue. It’s her in a “space shirt”. The shirt is a very piss poor representation of space. It was in shades of blue with a comet or a big white shooting star floating across the chest.

And I’m like, okay. Sure. Space. So, what do we have when we put it all together, “White Space”. Our new motto, our new direction. “It’s very abstract” she said. No shit.

“Do you know how lucky it was for me to have a space shirt?” she asked.

And it was then and there that I missed my chance. I missed my opportunity. I didn’t think of it till this morning, a full over 12 hours later. Damn, I’m losing it in my old age.

I should have said, “Why do you have a space shirt? Is it because you are out of this world?” It’s fucking cheesy as hell, but I have no shame. I’m prone to cheesiness and it is what I’m known for.

Fucking ass, I lost the moment. I lost the opportunity.

Damn.

But, c’est la vie. I’m sure I’ll get other interactions. Ahhh….until next time, I guess.

* * *

I am supposed to be writing my pages today, right now, adding more to my already steady growing collection of pages on my current script. I have incentivized myself to write more and I am supposed to be writing, but I’m not.

I’m finger tapping this out instead, stretching my fingers, prepping my mind to problem solve my next set of scenes and pages.

I’m biding time, I’m procrastinating.

I’m free writing to get back into it, having taking the week off of not thinking about it. It is time to get back to it.

Pages are due tomorrow for the writer’s group next week.

Let’s see how many more pages I get.

* * *

I’m hungry. I’m actually hungry, like right now, really hungry.

At least I have lunch and dinner already planned out so I can just get to it when I get back to the apartment, but it is really distracting.

* * *

This is what happens when you decide to procrastinate and blog when you really have nothing to blog about.

I don’t have much to say, but I have already committed to this thing and I’m not quitting. Just not yet.

Food.

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written that post about wanting to be happy, choosing to be happy, to face reality and to change how I should see the death of my father to less of it being my fault to the reality of shit just happened and he died.

There’s no meaning behind it. It’s life.

Existentialism. It is just life.

How do I feel? I don’t know. I know that some thoughts drift in and out and I just shake them out of my head, not wanting to think, to ponder, or even to consider those thoughts.

Hopefully I shake them off enough that I won’t be thinking about them anymore and they’ll just be in the past and I’m moved on.

Hopefully.

I guess that’s what I’ll discuss with my shrink tomorrow, how to shift and change that perspective when it has been canon and truth for so long. How indeed.

We shall see.

* * *

Deflated, but I knew it was only a matter of time.

I should be happy for her and I knew that it wasn’t going to happen anyway, but it’s just within my nature to hold out hope.

I can’t expect anything to happen when nothing happened to begin with.

But let’s hope that it is easier to move on.

Out of sight, out of mind.

All the best. All the best.

* * *

Change.

Evolution.

Growth.

I’ve been writing about it so much and it comes so slowly that it just makes me wonder when it’ll all stop.

When will I stop growing? When will I finally find what I’m supposed to be? When?

It’s a matter of time and I’m just really impatient.

Very impatient.

The world is moving a little too slow, or I’m just moving a little too slow to where I want to be in my life.

It’s not that I’m unhappy or unsatisfied. It’s not.

I am actually really happy in my life, living how I want to live, even though it is such a sedentary life, but it is my life to live.

But I don’t know, sometimes I feel that there should be more.

I understand I’m in control of it and it is what I make of it and I guess I’m at a point where I’m happy to live this life and not want to make any more of it.

But there’s that part of me, that nagging part of me that wants something more, someone to call my own, or someone to cuddle with, or just some body to be with.

I think a lot of it has to do with how horny I am.

I don’t know, I guess I just want something casual, or someone who is willing to give me the amount of freedom that I want.

But no woman would want something like that.

Blah, I don’t know what it is that I want.