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Tuesday, February 13, 2007

between the second and third martini


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Originally uploaded by imbrettjackson.
Oh my...that was both fun and totally insane. One of those "it was the best of nights, it was the worst of nights" times. Best cause I have such fun, amazing friends who can even manage to make embarrassing me amusing. Best cause we stuffed our faces and drank yummy martinis. Best cause then I went on the radio and tried to sound not drunk, and like I had a semblance of a clue what I was talking about. I'm SO the last girl anyone should be asking about good sex or Valentine's Day, really, but I had a great time and many thanks to Lorelei for sharing the cab home and getting me inside safely.

So the worst of times are usually the middle of the night, and last night was no exception. I woke up and just felt awful, not physically, but mentally. Kinda comes with the territory of being permanently behind, freaked the hell out by this novel writing task, just generally petrified and kinda lonely and not right. Twas better once I got more sleep but still...last week exemplified "losing it," it was like my mind was unraveling and I was determined that everyone see it, live, strangers and friends alike. That is sortof how I feel of late, floating along, letting things happen to me, not really having a clue how to fix them or figure out how to proceed. I want to not lose everything, but chuck it all, move away, start over. I'm so tempted by that but instead I'll book my little trips and cling to them like safety nets from the utter chaos that I crave and fear in equal parts. Sometimes I think I'm not cut out for New York, and other times I can't imagine anywhere else I'd rather be.

It's also a tough day, a tough week. That stupid V holiday, knowing that a year ago I wasn't all that different, that it was me and Malice and that boy and I was falling down, falling apart, fucking up and not acting anything like a 30-year-old should. It's knowing there's some other girl, probably millions of them, out there with the life that I want and wondering if that will ever be me. It's that tonight's the Heeb Love Issue party. It all gives me a headache and makes me want to crawl under a rock. But I won't, and that only lasts for so long. I'll probably buy the Macbook I've been coveting and type until my fingers hurt. At least, I hope I have that in me rather than any number of other ways I could self-destruct. Writing's always been my favorite because it's like destruction and salvation all in one.

Suffice it to say, it's been a long week, and it's only Tuesday. Much as I wish everything could always be silly and jokey and laughy and fun like last night, it's just not, and trying to find some balance, some in between, is what my thirties seem to be about.

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