Break Down

by

I did it, I lost in the bathroom, at the house, overwhelmed.  It finally happened.

Brain overload.

It started this morning within the first few moments of waking up receiving a text from my ride requesting permission to come over and get my stuff today, as in today, earlier.

Uh, no.

I am not packed yet.

I mean, I will have it all together pretty damn fast, I don’t have a lot to pack, but because everything that I am taking is literally everything that I am taking, I still needed to have the majority of my stuff out and accessible.

I am having the opposite happen that happened last year.

Last year my ride was hours, hours, hours late.  I was ready to go by seven and he was unable to get to me until nearly midnight.  I was anxious and over wound by the time he showed up.

Helped keep me awake through the night.

This year, my ride is eager to get on the road.  The fist indication being that we would leave tomorrow evening.  Then early evening, then late afternoon.  I thought evening would be like last year–after 8 p.m.

Nope.  More like 7p.m.

Ok, change-up the plans and cut back to a half day at work.

Wait, let’s push it earlier.

Ok, don’t get insane, you are ok with the money thing, ask off for the full day at work.  Done.

Now it’s we want to leave at 4p.m.

Well, fuck my mother.

I am screwed.

Ok, I know I am being dramatic, and it will all fall together nice and smooth and I can throw it all in a bag and into a bin and really, it’ll happen.

But what about my manicure and pedicure, damn it.

Yes, I am that vain.  I wanted to wax the fucking upper lip before leaving for playa.

I have a ‘stache.

Fuck off.

I have dark hair.  You have a ‘stache too, don’t deny it bitches, just cuz your hair is blonde and light and bleached out, doesn’t mean that it isn’t there.  I can just see mine and it drives me nuts.

I have been told that I have a lot of testosterone.

REALLY?

Is that why I feel like a gay man in a woman’s body?

Is that why I have five o’clock shadow on my upper lip?

Fuck.

Really the most important thing is to make my weekly meeting with Carolyn at Ritual tomorrow morning at 9 a.m.  I will meet with her for an hour, do the work, lay out the writing, take suggestions, and listen to what she has to say.

Then, drop the bike off at the shop.

Why?

I am also moving out of the room, so anything I want to have when I get back has to get stored, stashed, located.  I do not have time to hump ass to Oakland and leave my bike at Grace Land.  So, drop it off at the shop and sneak the fuck out of there before anyone gets in.

I am so tempted to do a few last-minute work details that weren’t taken care of today, but I am just going to walk in, leave the bike, reset the alarm and leave as though I was never there.

Then run back to the house, well, walk briskly.

Throw a load of laundry into the washer at the laundry mat, pack the rest of my gear up, take out the trash, the last of the recycling, clean the room and the bathroom, run back over to the laundry mat, swap out the clothes to the dryer, then come back to the house and grab a snack.

And yes, I will go get my nails did.

I need to have a nice little moment, an hour, just a few fucking seconds to decompress and chillax and be still.  I can be still in a massage chair while some one polishes my toes.  I deserve a nice break, I have been working my ass the fuck off.

Then back to the house, grab the laundry and get everything ship-shape to leave.

Hopefully I will see the land lady and get my deposit.

Having never signed a contract, does a verbal and a hug count?  I am keeping my fingers crossed that it will go smoothly.  I want to throw a mini-temper tantrum not having received the deposit already.  Plus, I am leaving a lot of nice things in the room.

I had a moment today when my evil brain said, fuck it all, put it on the curb and fuck her.

FUCK YOU.

I just felt like that.

I did not do anything.

I really had a kind of fuck you day.  I don’t care for being in this kind of space and it’s not a pleasant place.  I just feel unsettled.  Half here, half there.

No where.

No home.

No connection.

No stability.

Further stripped down.

I must center myself in the writing, in the sitting, in the being still, in the pause.

There is no where I have to go that fast.  I don’t have to cram my day so full that I end up crying in my bathroom ripping out my Fruit Loop colored hair.

I almost burst into tears this morning when I washed it and in the process of drying it my entire head fro’d out in full on clown regalia.  I fell like a clown car had crash landed on my head.

I felt like an escape from the circus.

It probably did not help that I had on pink fish nets over black tights.  I was officially representing the San Francisco freak nation.

It probably did not help further that I almost got hit by a taxi cab that ran a light.  I mean ran a light.  I had the green, traffic was crossing and he was busy on the phone and staring, staring at my hair.

Please, motherfucker, I know it’s rainbow bright, but I don’t need to die over my choice of creative expression.

Then I was the jack ass.

“JACK ASS!”

He screamed at me.

Screamed.

Breathless, I turned, “you ran a red, you ran the red.”

“So what, you’re a fucking jackass,” he screamed and squealed off.

So what?

So what?

I hope that shit was caught on camera.  So what, my ass, so what, I don’t need to die today.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed to a text asking for more than I could give to get  out of the shower to poof ball Bozo the Clown hair, almost run over by a cab, called a jack ass, abandoned at work to a mess of crap to deal with while the marketing team met with the owner and the GM and I sat on the phone for an hour with Bank of America, to get home to realize that I still had to pack, to give Beth the stuff she wanted from the few things I had left, to go open 2900, to come back here and no wonder I want to crawl under a rock and hide.

But whatever.

Life is going to happen, it is happening, and despite my mass of wickedly colored curls and my slight anxiety that I will some how fuck it all up, all I really need to do is the next step ahead of me and it always turns out exactly how it is supposed to.

With or without me freaking out.

With or without me having “feelings” about the situation.

Everything is alright.

And frankly, my hair looks fucking awesome.

Who wouldn’t want to look like they’re off to the circus, the circus is the best show on Earth!

HOLY SHIT.

I AM GOING TO BURNING MAN TOMORROW!

It’s really happening.

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One Response to “Break Down”

  1. bluepearlgirl's world Says:

    Dont worry! You are going to the Playa! Everything will be like wonderland there, so maybe it is trying to purge your hidden anxed so that it is a beautiful burning man! Have a blast! How could you not?

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