Ain't No Joy

Sometimes you are on everybody's "A" list, then, without warning or reason (that you know of) nobody is calling.  It happens.  

Last night I was low.  I felt the empty hollow surrounding me.  It was one of those nights when I really wanted to drink.  Some alcoholics, I'm sure, just like the buzz.  Others, I would guess, are just looking for something to fill the void.  They are Existentialist drinkers.  Giggle if you will.  There is something comforting in having that "companion."  

But I didn't.  Drink, that is.  Nope.  I brewed some ginger tea and watched "Hopper: An American Love Story," on my computer (link).  I'm not really recommending it, though.  It wasn't very good.  It was worse than that.  They censored with a little blur bubble the pubis in one of the paintings.  WTF?!?  Yea. . . fuck them.  

I started to write this last night because I have an 8:00 appointment to get my car serviced, but the writing was morbid, so I gave up.  I have gotten up early enough to write a bit this morning.  Appointments now cause me anxiety.  I haven't had to be anywhere at a certain time for years now.  My time has been my own.  I've done little with it, but that is a whole other story.  There are many factors, some of them noble.  

My "low" last night had many factors, too.  It wasn't simply chemical.  Well. . . everything is chemical, but there were some causative things at work.  

I did get a little buzz later in the evening, a text that miffed me in some ways.  Flirty?  If not, why are you sending me this?  If so, why not be a little more. . . "flirty"?  I try not to imagine too much anymore.  But, you know. . . gotta hold onto something. . . .  

Remember I said I was going forth with a PMA--a Positive Mental Attitude?  I guess that was horseshit.  I think I need help.  I saw a meditation class preparing a couple days ago, and the New Age feeling of those careful conversations told me I would not enjoy it/them.  Too many "Karens".  I have a rebellious nature that doesn't always serve me well.  But I know I need something to get me out of the headspace that I'm in.  

I won't be stopping the whole "diet" thing, though, until I lose my baby bump.  Once I can stand in a t-shirt and see my chest rather than my belly, I'll be good.  I don't need six abs.  I just need to look better.  I've made progress, but there is a long, hungry way to go.  

It is good for me, though. . . right?  

I'd better get ready.  I'll drive to the mechanic, then Uber to the gym.  I will need to walk home.  It is further than I've walked since my knee became a problem.  Here's hoping. After that, I'm stuck in the house until I Uber back to the mechanic.  It is not a day to which I look forward.