The Bloody Doors Off

I was trying to come up with a clever blog post tonight, but that’s just dumb.

It’s not what this is about.

Sometimes I forget.

Tonight I (again) reminded myself that I wanted to start talking with God. That I keep saying I’m going to do it and then forget. Not happy. Waiting to find out what my hours will eventually settle into. Right now it’s 10-6:30 but that could become 12:-8:30. I wanna go back to Al-Anon, and there’s a meeting in the Beaches at a reasonable time but it’ll depend on my schedule.

And I need to make/take lunches in with me. When I was doing 2 days/week with the newspaper, I took in sandwiches. Why am I so unmotivated now? Especially when I am still unable to log in my hours, even though they guarantee I’ll get paid on time? If I don’t, I’m fucked. That’s rent and all my bills. I’ll be tapped out by the end of the month. There’s gotta be tokens around, as a fall-back.

The stress is just. I need one thing to go right; enough to keep forward momentum.

Plus there’s the fact I haven’t written anything for the play in over a month. The ideas are there, and they’re good. But my schedule’s out of whack and I’m adjusting and it’s leaving me less hours, and I need to prioritize.

I would rather not think of all this for the rest of the night. I need sleep.