What makes me feel the worst about myself isn’t my body, my illness, or my laziness.  It’s that I spend more time on Facebook than I do reading actual books.  And it is probably the biggest source of agitation for me.  Yet I keep going back.   Yesterday I called out someone who had “talked shit” to one of my best friends.  He claims he was confiding in someone.  You don’t confide shit talk to someone who is close with another person.  He tried to guilt me again and said I was full of myself.  Whatever.  I could give a shit less.  Just one more toxic person I don’t have to deal with anymore. 

I run my own business, so there is a social media aspect of it being that it is 2017 and things have changed in the world of freelance and advertising.  But to be honest, I’ve learned so much about people just from facebook that now, I cannot care less about some of the coolest people I’ve ever met.  

I am a very liberal person.  I am all for social justice.  But some people are losing their damn minds trying to care for everyone else on the planet and then wondering why they themselves are depressed.  This is why.  No, it seems like if you don’t care for other people, don’t sign a petition (which by the way, doesn’t mean shit anymore) and show up to every single rally, you’re an asshole.  I’m all for taking action and I go to the rallies when I can, but my energy level is very easy to jeopardize. 

Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been on a steady diet of coffee, painkillers and softer foods for a week now that is making me agitated.  I mean I did pull the gauze insert out today per the doctor’s orders.  I just hope it doesn’t flare up tonight at work.  I’m already a bit salty that I can’t afford to go to the weekend event that I wanted to go to in my own city.  Don’t need anymore salt in the wound. 

Having a roomie that isn’t my SO is draining too.  He’s a good dude, but writing this is the first private time I have had to myself in a while.  I usually work mornings.  He works late night.  My SO works mornings to mids every day as an assistant manager to one of the worst companies in the world.  But shit, it pays the rent.  The company used to not be like that too.  Nearly ten years of dedication and only $10.50 an hour.  He has made the decision to get a better job by November, when the company enforces one of the most bullshit rules in their history.  His former coworker walked out the second that he got the promotion to another store because he didn’t want to deal with the company anymore unless he had someone to deal with him.  Can’t blame him honestly.  

As for me, working the freelance route and working a day job at a restaurant is a bit tiring.  I was doing great on the freelance circuit for a while, but then festival season kicked in and everyone wanted to save their money for that instead.  Save their money for drugs.  I’ve been in the rave scene for a long time now, and I will say that most people aren’t in it just for the drugs, but unfortunately a lot of the people I know take way too much.  They don’t follow any safety guidelines from what I can tell.  Shit, the one guy when to Electric Forest and did coke for like two days straight and then came back and did more coke.  And he wonders why he’s pissed off all of the time.  Insists he doesn’t have a problem.  There is a line between recreational and addiction that is pretty easy to see.  Most people I know have no concept of it.  

“We support you!” They say.  Yeah, of course you do.  In showing up to an event that I’m working at, you claim you support me.  Fucking blow me.

I have had no time to paint in a month.  Been working as a promoter for the first time in a while.  It’s exhausting but our last show did pretty good for a Monday.  My energy levels have been zapped as I’ve been working a day job again.  Also, the new roomie lives in our studio, so despite him being a clean guy, it smells like man in my studio.  I moved my computer downstairs to the dining room table.  But I can’t paint down here.  Having pets makes that difficult.  Also, other than painting fish (which sells and I do enjoy), my brain is spent on ideas.  I’m also juggling two commissions at once for print, neither of which I really wanted to do but hell, it pays more than what I make at the restaurant.  

The only place I can set up my pop up table shop at this weekend is an after hours place, which is full of coke heads and people who have already blacked out before they get there.  It’s loud and I can’t open my mouth that far with my dental issues.  Plus it’s just fucking sad going there. Afterparties were always weird for me, but usually I would meet someone who was coming down off of whatever that was worth talking to.  This place is weird unless I bring a friend with me.  The owners are cool but the clients are fucking trash nine times out of ten.  And they’re rude as shit.  Still though, it’s money.  And I’d rather do this than work 9-5 all week and exhaust myself like I used to.  Some people can handle that 9-5 shift.  Not me.  It’s just too difficult.  


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