Still I’m dying with every step I take

It arrived today, the letter I’ve been waiting for. Didn’t state much though, only that I’ve been put in queue for an initial examination to see how deep down in shit I am. It’s weird, I haven’t been seeing my therapist in weeks now just waiting for this letter and I’m starting to feel a bit unstable again. Been better with the bad habits, but it’s on my mind all the time. So I started a diet, and at least that’s better than doing the other things I usually do. Yesterday I managed on 200 calories. Well, until someone decided to pour 2 bottles of wine down my throat.

 

A room with a view

I finally did it then. Not sure how it made me feel. All I know is it felt pretty okay to just blurt everything (okay not everything yet) out to someone who had to listen. Someone who actually had some very reasonable to say. I still feel like I’m a waste of time. Two reasons really: 1. My problems may not be critical enough or 2. I’m probably a lost case. You judge.

 

Thunder in my heart

Once again I should be in class, not stuck here in front of my pc; waiting for my e-mail to make that pleasant sound on msn. 90% of the time it’s just the ordinary spam or Facebook cluttering my inbox, but sometimes, when I least expect it; it’s those long longed for few words from down under. I got a mail two days ago, so now I’m guessing it will be another somewhat two weeks before I’m spoiled with more. Funny how those weeks pass me by without me remembering what I actually did with my time, except for the hours just around the arrival of what I’m longing for every day. The letters.

 

From me to eternity

I pull my jacket closer around me as I’m stumbling along the street in my high heeled shoes on my way to the bus stop. It’s freezing cold outside and the snow in the air is tumbling around above my head in light, thin whirlwinds, chasing through the dark. Not that I feel it though, I’m fevery from the alcohol and I lost count of the amount I filled myself with hours ago. I don’t know why I do it; maybe I’m just trying to cover up the holes inside me with something, even though deep down I know it’s not the right way to do it. Still I do it at least three times a week, preferably four; and it’s a miracle I’m still able to handle school. Well, I trick people to believe I am. They don’t know all the failed courses I’ve added to my baggage. Yet.

 

My sweetheart the drunk

The weekend is ended and we survived, believe it or not! Me and R left for my hometown friday afternoon to meet with my families (parents divorced = two cool families instead of one for the win) and it was the beginning of a really nice and fun weekend. I have to admit I was a bit worried about meeting with my dad and his spouse since they had decided there would be some (which always means a lot in that household) drinking in the evening. We started off with beer as soon as we arrived and my dad started pouring R whiskey before dinner. My dad’s idea about how much whiskey you pour in a glass is about the same as how much tequila you get poured in one glass in Cuba; meaning the size of a normal glass from Ikea. The night had just begun.

 

Don’t make me Avada Kedavra your ass

Seems I forgot I have a blog. I blame Facebook! This tool from hell that keeps occupying precious time I should use for studying. Hmm. Anyways, the truth is also I’m not sure I’ve had anything interesting to tell. You see, single life is full of adventures and misfortunes and there’s always, always something to whine about. Like fuck it I’m so lonely. Coupled though, life is a bit different and I almost forgot how it used to be. Single for 1.5 years and you forget about it completely. It doesn’t mean though that misfortunes stop happening; or that you’re fully content 24/7. Noo… the truth is - there are a lot of completely different things to whine about.

 

Drag the dirt in

I should wear a sticker on my forehead saying “Don’t get her drunk - She’ll lose her mind”; at least that’s something well-deserved since last night. The golden rule still stands, don’t get drunk/don’t party with your boyfriend/girlfriend (at least not the first 3 years) if you’re not up for a possibly disaster. Why do I recognise this? Because me and my ex could never get drunk together either, or at least rarely, without a fight.

 

It takes a fool to remain sane

I left work in a hurry yesterday as I was in urgent need of a couple of bottles of wine for the evening. R promised to get hold of that Nintendo 8 bits console so we could finally fulfill our plans we had for almost all summer but which always, in one way or the other, ends up being ruined by either work, weather or other people. This time we told no one except the owner of the NES and by accident another guy who works in our department. So the gaming night finally happened after all, and boy did it take an interesting turn.

 

No one would riot for less

Almost a whole free week ahead of me, my oh my, and my first free weekend since June. Are we feeling lucky today? Yes we are! Funny though how you can’t disconnect work when you’re free; it’s always around somewhere. You could say more than once that the place where I work is special, and the same would probably go for the people working there. How about a boss who wants to screw you, after work parties so filled of scandals it makes you blush and a general manager everyone is making fun of? Welcome to my place of work!

 

Bigmouth strikes again

Offline - June 29th 2007.

Jesus fucking Christ. I’m too old to do things like we did last night. I haven’t been this hungover since December when me and a friend emptied 3 bottles of red wine in less than two hours. It will probably be a while before I have my next kebab to be honest, because the sight of it chewed is still etched on the inside of my eyelids. Yum. Vanilla vodka drinks, about ten beers and somewhat two or three Jägermeister shots was too much even for alcoholics like me. The only comfort is my friend was more hungover than me today and she hardly remembers a thing. Ops. That was our first party night together, but now I seriously don’t know when we’ll dare drinking together again.