enferma

Feel. Like. Shit.

My head is in a fog. My throat is sore and I have this annoying, intermittent cough. OD’ing in Vitamin C is apparently not enough to stave off illness, just so you know.

I woke up this morning wishing I could stay in bed for at least a year. Instead, I popped a couple of Tylenol and proceeded to kick my own ass out the door. Oh, the suckage. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d crawl under my desk and take a nice, long nap.

The Chain, by Ingrid Michaelson has been playing in my head the past few days. Partly because it’s breathtakingly beautiful and partly because it just fits. Since my brain is like a big, nasty bowl of oatmeal and I have nothing even remotely interesting to write about, I’ll share it with you.

So glide away on soapy heels
And promise not to promise anymore
And if you come around again
Then I will take, then I will take the chain from off the door

thinking ahead?

One day I’m folding laundry and Mooch walks into the room and says “Mom, I’ve made the decision to transfer schools”. Stunned, I replied “what the hell are you talking about?” He was midway through his Sophomore year of college and truth be told, wasn’t doing that well. His grades were average, he was focused more on having fun than his studies – clearly not in a position to be transfering schools. “Where is this coming from”? I needed to know what he was basing his decision on and how he planned to accomplish it. “I’m sick of the weather up here. It’s too cold in the winter. A bunch of my friends and I were thinking about going to school in Arizona”. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He wanted to transfer schools because he didn’t like the weather in DC. I told him he needed to think this through. Out of State tuition is frankly, out of our family’s budget and it sounded like he wanted to party it up in Arizona with his friends more than anything else. I explained the infinite reasons why this was a stupid idea and he defiantly shot back “my decision’s final! I’ve done the research and even completed the application online and believe it or not, it’s cheaper than Instate University (totally not the real name of his school)”. “Mooch, what the hell are you talking about? How is that even possible? What school did you apply to?” To which he replied “University of Phoenix”. After I stopped laughing, I asked him how he heard about that school (an ad on Facebook) and whether he knew it wasn’t really in Arizona. This kid was practically packed and ready to move to an online college.

So much for doing the research.

breakaway

I feel naked.

I made the somewhat inappropriate decision to wear leggings with a long, form-fitting sweater to work today. And because the word of the day is hoochie, I accompanied the ensemble with a pair of tall, 4 inch heels. No, I do not work in a massage parlor, thanks for asking. If not for the fact that I absent-mindedly left my phone sitting on my nightstand this morning I’d take a picture and let you judge for yourself.

Moving on, Saturday was spent on the National Mall at the Library of Congress National Book Festival. Girl and I really love Nicholas Sparks, and so, we got to hear him speak. He as a new novel coming out which he just finished in July – can’t wait. He spoke on a number of things, like his process, the fabulous school he runs with his wife down in New Bern, NC and life with his family. While standing in the cold, relentless rain, it occured to me how nice it would be to pick up and just start over. Nicholas Sparks isn’t originally from North Carolina, but California. When he and his wife married, they made the decision early on that once they had children, she would stay home with them for the first five years or so. They couldn’t afford to do that in California so they narrowed down their choices to a few states where the cost of living was lower and North Carolina won. Why am I boring you with these details, you ask? Because this idea really appeals to me. My siblings and I are the first generation in our family born above the Mason-Dixon Line. I have long said, that I would love to pack it up and head south. I have gone back and forth worrying about things like work, and schools and a place to live. I want so badly to be one of those people who wakes up and says “fuck it” and follows their thought process and allows it to take them wherever it chooses. What makes these people different from folks like me? People who dream of living life on their own terms but in the end, punk out and stay in the familiar? I know that life is short. Too short, in fact and I don’t want to look back in regret. I feel like I have already compromised so much already. I don’t know. I just want to be free. I am tired of the congestion and noise and minutae. I want to travel at my own pace and wake up smiling and happy and not wish the day away (which I do daily).

How did this start as a post about inappropriate work attire and turn into whatever this is?

i guess it was meant to be a compliment

So I made buffalo wings for dinner the other night. Everyone was eating and making a mess and all that happy stuff. Chill looks up at me and says “Mom, where did you get these wings?” I was a little confused. Didn’t he smell the chicken frying in the house? Weren’t his eyes burning from the hot sauce and siracha simmering on the stove? “What do you mean where did I get them? I made them”. To which he replied, “No way, these are really good”.

WTF?

quiet my soul

Been listening to a lot of music lately. Mostly old favorites like the Stones (I’m currently stuck on Moonlight Mile). For me, music has a way of quieting my soul. My mind is constantly racing and working like mad to drive me, well, mad. Music just chills me out. Kinda like natural Xanax.

Life is crazy as always. I am in this constant struggle to pull through the bullshit and make things work in my marriage. It’s wearing me down and truth be told, if I could go back in time, I would not have gotten married. It’s too fucking hard under the best of circumstances much less when one of you is bipolar (him, not me) and refusing to do anything about it. We constantly fight about how I think he should go back into therapy and take his meds. He refuses and as a result, life at home is like living on a funny farm minus the fun. For fucks sake, if I had diabetes, I’d take insulin. If I had cancer, I undergo chemo and if I was bipolar, I’d take my bloody meds. He doesn’t want to live under the stigma. So, we suffer. Not fair.

The sound of strangers sending nothing to my mind
Just another mad mad day on the road
I am just living to be lying by your side
But Im just about a moonlight mile on down the road