I. am. exhausted.
I totally lost it this weekend - something in me decided I didn't wanna deal with the pain I was going through (being reject #539 'er something) and so I didn't: instead, I pulled an old favourite and got myself and nice and wasted at around three in the afternoon on Saturday. Being drunk and angry just feels so much better than sober and pathetic and in too much pain to be conscious. I was quite trashed and decided I had to get out of the apartment, so, feeling nice and self-destructive, I narrowed my options and decided to head to Corktown to see Randy and Mr. Lahey (from the Trailer Park Boys). So I wobbled over there, flask full of whiskey hidden in my purse (and bottle of Ativan just in case?) and actually had a pretty good time - the show was funny and as drunk as I was, I remember some of it - even standing with the rest of the patrons to sing 'Oh, Canada' after the 'boys' poked fun at those silly people requesting the lyric change (it's not hard to feel at least a little patriotic after those beautiful Olympic games).
Anyway, after that a few guys I know from a band got up and played a set with a new band they're in (Radio Free Universe: members include fellas from Bombshell and the guy from King Clansey) so that was okay. Then closing time. That's where things got ridiculous.
Some dude asked if he could share the cab with me cause he lives just a few blocks from where I'm going so I said sure why not. That was a really stupid move apparently because all he did was get out of the cab at the same place as me and followed me into my fucking apartment building. So I was fucking stuck in my apartment lobby with this really creepy guy who wanted to come to my apartment with me and kept calling me a bitch cause I was saying 'no, leave' meanwhile trying to grope and kiss me. Then he drags me on the elevator! so I obviously refused to press any buttons cause I didn't want him knowing where I live (obviously). After I don't know how long (and after flashing me in said elevator) he got fed up with the elevator business and tried pulling me into a stairwell. But as wasted as I was, I was able to fight (thank gods). Oh did I mention he grabbed my keys from me and wouldn't give them back?
Finally after about an hour of this torture he left and I booted my ass up to my apartment and locked the doors.
The next day was a hang-over and that same yuckiness that was intolerable the day before, except this time no drinky poo (as Mr. Lahey would put it). I slept a good chunk of it away, then later on dealt with some unpleasantness and shed the damn tears I was trying so hard to avoid in the first place. What a train wreck. I'm pretty sure anyone talking to me lately thinks I'm a nut bag unless of course you already know me, then you already know I'm a nut bag. Well, at least I learn from it all, that's something.
So after little to no sleep last night I had to get up early for an assessment to get into the eating disorders clinic here in Hamilton. I pressed snooze at least ten times and felt like pure shit. The assessment consisted of me sitting in this psychiatrist lady's office while she asked me about everything from my childhood to my suicidal tendencies and everything in between for about two and a half hours. By the time we were done, I was completely drained and a little depressed because I had just talked about my life for two and a half hours and it was all really shitty stuff so it made me feel like I've had a really negative life.
As much as my apartment needs to be cleaned and that article needs to be written for Buttercup, there was no way. I slept pretty much all day and it was very much needed. And this is a big chunk of why I. am. exhausted. No wonder it feels alien when I tell people my age cause I sure feel like I've been stuck at 13 forever. I am so jealous of people who know how to live and people who know how not to fuck shit up and people who are reading this blog feeling sorry for me because they can't imagine being so miserably stupid. And now I'm starting to make myself sick with my whining so I'll move on.
I do have some positive things to talk about. I got a guitar! Sean brought it over about a half hour ago and I've decided to relearn. Yay! Maybe when I'm 40 I'll be a rock star ;o) I don't know how to read music - I learn by watching and listening because of course I like to do things the hard way. I used to know so many freaking songs - I knew almost every Hole song too! Damnit I wish I could remember.
What else, I needs monies. I'm usually good with monies but I'm so tight this month and it's a really bad month to be broke cause I have two writer's meetings and a few shows I just have to go to. Thursday I'm heading to 'This Ain't Hollywood' to see '13 Bags of Dick' and 'Allysa In The Apple Tree.' On the 20th I'm going to see 'Steel Mountie' at 'Bread And Roses.' 'Rackula' is having a CD release at the 'Casbah' on the 27th and I think that's it (I hope so cause I have no money! Please donate - I will show you my bra strap [no, I am not kidding]). I need to do my damn taxes.
Alright, here's hoping for better days ahead.