An Exercise in Exorcism?

Hey.

So I'm in a wicked grumpy mood all of a sudden, and while I swore this would not become a bitchy blog, I thought I might just take the time to process this feeling a little.

What the fuck? Why does this sometimes happen? I feel irritable and pissy and unhappy and lazy and antsy all at once. I am not PMSing though, which can normally account for all these feelings. So what's the deal?

I just got home from a party store with Aaron and he's working on a treasure map for his Boys Club thing for tomorrow and I'm out here brooding. What the fuck, I ask again.

And he's being super sweet but for some reason that sweetness is getting right the fuck under my skin and I ended up snapping at him and promptly apologizing, because honestly, I know I'm bananas right now.

And it came on ALL OF A SUDDEN and seemingly our of nowhere. W.T.F.?.

And when I get like this I am full of extremes. Nothing is "Maybe" Or "Possibly"

it is always definite. absolute. irrevocable. burnin bridges.

Like I have decided, 100%, that I am fucking sick of posting my writing on my blog. And like, I'm not at peace with it, I'm fucking furious about it. It's actually almost humorous how irate I am about it right now. Like I want to kick something and break it hard. So I say things to myself like: FUCK THIS NOISE! I'm DONE! I am SO FUCKING OVER IT!!!!!

And then the other half of me is wicked mean and is all: "Shut the fuck up you whiney primadonna. So what? SO noone gives a fuck. grow the fuck up and get on with your life you stupid cunt.

And then I'm pissed at myself for bringing the C-word into it and then I'm not talking to myself and one half of me has to sleep on the couch until we can swallow our pride, apologize and make up.

Ok, JK about the last bit but for real? I'm inhospitable to myself when I'm this pissy and I can't imagine how Aaron endures being around me. I'm this ball of negativity and I don't like who this person is at all. Resentful. Jealous. Mean. Shallow. Desperate. Disparaging. Ungrateful. Defeatist. Sour. Cunty. Snappish. A Bully. A Jerk. An intolerable individual.

So. Did writing this help me process? I'm not sure. I think it helped me get out of my negativity spiral a little, helped me step outside the storm cloud and analyze it from afar.

However all is not cured because my husband is singing quietly to himself in the other room, a thing I normally enjoy thoroughly-- and right now it is making me want to punt a baby seal into a jet engine.

So. That's prolly none too healthy.

Plus I wicked embarrassed myself tonight and even though I know I should get the fuck over it, when I'm in this kind of mood every little thing gets magnified like CRAZY and Aaron says I insert subtext where there was none, read too much into stuff, over-analyze and am generally paranoid when I'm in this sort of disposition.  Let me say this about the connundrum of paranoia: You CAN NOT talk yourself OUT of paranoid feelings; any attempt to do so only talks you further into the hole.  They must dissipate on their own.  YOU CAN'T THINK YOUR WAY OUT OF THAT FEELING.  like, at all.  YOu just end up feeling worse about the other people or a whole lot worse about yourself, or likely bothe, and it is all over NOTHING (probably), so that makes the whole thing EVEN WORSE and it keeps spiraling like that.

ERG!

I might try to write. But who knows how that will go. If my laptop is still intact tomorrow I'll call that a success. I hope my mood is much improved soon. Maybe I'll take a bath. Actually that sounds like a plan.

If only I had bubbles I know I'd be all set. Have you ever taken a fucking bubble bath as an adult? Like a full-on, all-the-chemicals-in-the-world kinda bubble bath? I'm talking dollar store car-wash kinda bubbles?  It's ridiculous how joyful those crazy suds can make a bitch. Like, completely unreasonable, but it works.

So. Thanks. For letting me sound off. I promise not to digress into this territory too often.

On a side note: I guess True Blood's the thing to see so I better get on that.  Also I believe I may make a pledge, and keep it, to read a play a week (this is a pledge I make often), and maybe a book a month.  So send your book reccommendations to me.

Oh, christ.  In this mood every trigger word is outrageous, like I just wrote 'reccommendation' and it made me remember how two people I really respect, admire, and thought I could count on totally blew me off when I asked them to write me recs.  Um.  Really?  This is my fucking livlihood here, this isn't, I mean, I'm not dicking around-- these schools won't even consider me without three recs and you guys can't be fucking bothered?  For real?  There isn't a fucking favor in the world I wouldn't do for you.  And in a timely fucking fashion no less.  I mean, I need a job.  I need a goddamn interview.  But you can't sit down for 45 minutes to an hour and insert my name into some boilerplate rec letter for fucks sake?  really?  Ok.  whatever.  this is what I'm talking about.  Crazy.  I need a sedative, I'm practically foaming at the mouth over here.

Seriously, let me know what books you think I'd enjoy this summer.  

Love,

Beth