Crackhead Hours

“Who’s that girl on the treadmill in that little apartment gym sweating her ass off at 1:15 a.m.?”

It’s me. DUH.

A group of people had sneaked in the pool area tonight for some early-morning swimming on the way to make my fat cry, and asked me to join them. When I said I had some working out to do, one girl said, “At ONE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING?!?”

Well, you’re fucking SWIMMING at this hour, so what does it matter?

I broke up with Wellbutrin. Shit tried to put me over the edge. Others have had the same experience. I believe my friend K-Dog said, “FUCK Wellbutrin. Fuck it.”

For reals. So now I have a 7:30 a.m. appointment with Dr. Abdin tomorrow. Little point to go to sleep, as I usually don’t fall asleep normally until 4:30 or so. I have plans of sleepwalking into and out of my appointment, driving home, donning suit, and laying on my raft in the pool until noon.

One other thing: Why do people buy Iced Tea Makers? People, put water in a pot, boil the shit, then put some teabags in there. Don’t give Walmart more of your money.


Muddling Through

My British Lit professor was one of my favorite teachers in college. One day I stopped him in the stairwell before class with some excuse about my paper being late, or some other missed assignment. I think it went along the lines of, “I’m so sorry my assignment was late—I was waiting tables and studying for this other test and my life is so hard and—AAHHHH!” Or something like that. He just smiled gently and said, “We all have to muddle through life.” At that time, I was like, “Uh, yeah, whatever,” but the full impact of what he said is really hitting hard in my 30s.

My brain has done some wonky things since then. When my dad decided to lose his shit, it was the catalyst for my own shit to be lost. Antidepressants saved my life (or at least a trip to the looney bin) and they haven’t left my side since my early 20s.

So, here we are, on Bupropion (Wellbutrin for poor people). I fucking hate it so far. I’m nothing if not impatient, so I’m trying to give it time. I would’ve stayed on the Pristique, but those precious pink pills were five dollars a pop, equaling out to $150 bucks a month. I couldn’t continue that monthly expense.

I feel like the Bupe (as I shall call it from here) is exacerbating my tendency to stay in my head way too much. How the hell do you get off italics?  To remedy that, I try and stay busy. Working out, cleaning up, doing laundry, cooking…things that I should at least be generally okay with, but lately just feels like I’m going through the motions. I thought I went through my so-called existential crisis in my mid-20s, but it feels like it’s rearing its ugly head again. Is this all there is? Work, laundry, exercise, feeding cats, etc? What’s the point of all this? I feel so fucking selfish and self-absorbed. There are so many people in the world with so many problems and here I am whining about a normal life. But I can’t help my thoughts. Well, I can, but there’s a disconnect somewhere these days.

It doesn’t help that I work 3-midnight. Instead of coming home and connecting with everyone else who is just getting off work, meeting for coffee or happy hour, I come home and try to figure out what to do with my time. It’s very isolating. Not a good situation, as I am generally a very outgoing person who loves to talk and laugh and goof off. So instead the thoughts sit inside my head, and it’s easy for them to get the best of me, because my diversion tactics suck, apparently. I’m making a sincere effort not to drink alcohol when I get home—only if I’m doing it socially with friends.

And now I’ve just scrolled through some Wellbutrin message board and whatdayaknow: anxiety and feelings of being “unsettled” are a side effect. Like I need any more anxiety!

A Day In The Life Of The Day Off

I know, I know. It’s been months since I’ve blogged. After trying to figure out what would be fun to post, I decided to document a day off. And this was a pretty damn good one (and it’s not even over yet!). Ready? Let’s go!

First we start with some vitamin d. Look at Lion posing for the camera. He’s so handsome.

Giving me sugar. Awww.

Then ripping into my skull.

Then it was time to head downtown for my swedish massage. I.M. Spa has a special on Tuesdays: $50 for one hour. Annie (my therapist) was awesome. She spent the full hour on my back and neck, since I’ve been getting headaches at the base of my skull, which I discovered today has a bundle of muscles. Makes sense.  Random: You can see Hugo’s below, where I had my bday dinner. Good times!

I then headed down the block to Little Bread Company. Believe it or not, I actually haven’t been here since I moved to Fayetteville, so I carpe diem’d and went in for lunch.


They have all kinds of badass quiches and desserts.

I went for the buffalo mozzarella, basil and tomato. A caprese, more or less. Tomatoes weren’t up to snuff, but it was still a decent meal. Got kettle chips and a pickle spear, too. $7.00

Finished up and cruised around downtown.

So glad Free Geek is here in Fayetteville! I discovered them when I moved to Portland (where it was created; go P-Town!) and I’ve always loved their mission. You can drop off old computers, etc, and Free Geek recycles/refurbishes them and makes them available at a really affordable price. Hmmm, maybe I should volunteer. My friend Megan right now is saying, “You haven’t even called back the people at the library about volunteering!”

And here we are smack-dab in the middle of the Square. And probably my favorite place to get a quick laugh.

Time to pay my fines. And then quickly forget about it and get more books. Love my FPL.

Best seat in the house. Second floor, fiction. With the weird, abstract tree limb/bird thing.

And what is a day off without finding a free baby doll on the street? Random weirdness rules!

Now it’s just about that time. The time for kickboxing. Where I drag my ass 30 minutes to Bentonville to get in shape.

Just. Do. It.

Word up,



Dear Diary,

What a great day in the Health & Body Care Department! First, I scored a bottle of the exact same facewash I use. The pump had been twisted and turned and had congealed gunk  all over it, so it went to the write-off bin (then directly to my purse). SCORE.

Dear Diary,

A not-so-stellar day for me in the Health & Body Care Department. I busted a bottle of 20 dollar vitamins, and poured an entire bag of conventional (not organic) tea into the organic bin. This is not good. Definitely not winning, to be sure.

But the one shining moment that trumped everything, was the question:

“Excuse me, do you guys carry psycillium husks?”

And me turning to see this face:


Of course, I played it too-cool-for-school, and got the answer for him.

His wife is apparently from this area, and their kid Jackson is beyond cute (and I’m not naturally inclined to gush over children).

Happy Easter!

Domination Station

Just dominated Skull Creek Trail. And by dominate, I mean:

  • rode at speed 1 and walked the really big hills
  • went and bought a bike lock and promptly
  • rode over to Nightbird Books
  • bought a chocolate ganache mocha
  • browsed books
  • got back on the trail and
  • rode down to the creek, took off my shoes and waded in the water
Biking is serious business.
Oh yeah, and here’s my new favorite jam:
The Joy Formidable, “Whirring”

Photography Phun

I live vicariously through my friend Raven’s coursework at the University of Arkansas (or, as the new tagline reminds us–the YOU of A). She’s an art major, so I stick my nose into the projects she works on, particularly in her film photography class. I tag along with her to the darkroom and watch the old-school developing process (it’s long; three photographs took up about four hours), read photography magazines and soak up the good ole’ smell of them chemicals.

An abandoned contact sheet.


ready for the washer

Oh, and Kitty Mao says hi.