February 26 - March 2, 2011

(In 2011, at the age of 27, I kept a daily photo diary, and now, seven years later, I am serializing it here on Patreon.)

February  26, 2011

Sometime around college, I got burnt out on prose books. 

For context, growing up I was a huge bookworm. Enormous. My parents would have to take away my book from me to force me to interact with people when we would be out and about. I'm still proud that in fourth grade I was reading at a twelfth grade level. My world revolved around books!

Then, college.

Nothing would knock me out faster than reading a book without pictures. My theory was that my mind would get bored at the repetition of seeing the same letters (not words, letters) over and over and would just... fall asleep. I don't know if that's really a sound hypothesis, but it's the best I got. Maybe I just had the love of reading beaten out of me by academia and over-analyzing. 

Now I've been out of school for five years and I feel... dumber. Sort of. Kind of. My brain muscles feel like they've atrophied from not being exercised. 

In December, one of my goals for 2011 would be to read prose books again. At least one a month. 

I'm devouring novels. 

That sleeping problem from college? Nonexistent. 

...As a completely unexpected side effect, it makes me want to tell my own stories? Fictional stories, not even autobiographical ones.

People always ask why I chose autobio or why am I working with other authors and the answer is because I don't know how to make things up. 

I still don't have any real story ideas, mind you, but the desire is there now. I hope this continues to grow, because once I'm done with Bucko and Grimm, I'd really like to create my own stories too. 

Man! Reading.

February 27, 2011

The older I get, the more I hate the inefficiency of my body. My cunt breaks regularly and I despise, despise, the loss of control over my mind for a week every month. I can feel myself turn into this irrational, emotional crazy person who is hurt and angry and crying over everything. Everything. It's exhausting and humiliating. No matter how much I try to remind myself "this is just your hormones", all the anger and hurt is SO REAL. It blinds me. 

It probably doesn't help matters any that I haven't been able to ride my bike in two weeks, on account of first the yeast infection, then the scorched pussy lips from the infection expelling itself and then both the weather turning icy (unsafe to ride the streets) AND getting my period a day or so before my lady parts even stopped hurting from that other bullshit. Also, no sex. 

Bicycling and sex are what I need to keep my body and mind running smoothly. Take that away? And then douse my brain in an excess of hormones?

Crazy. Times.

(Photo by Matt)

February 28, 2011

Another weekend of rejuvenating household chores. That's not sarcasm, I really do feel refreshed from our weekend maintenance routines. 

This is Matt and me attaching our groceries to our bikes (the roads de-iced and my cootch is on its last legs of perioding, so cycling is once again possible) outside the grocery store.

March 1, 2011

Got scary news today at work and cried in the bathroom for a while. It might wind up being on the not-TOO-bad end of the spectrum, but I won't know for a few more days. 

Also, I'm debating whether I need to go back into therapy or not. I've been off meds and therapy-free for three or four years now and doing fine, but this last month has been really hard. And there's no real reason for it. The things that upset me aren't depression-worthy, so I figure it's brain-chemical-imbalance crap. Hopefully it's just the seasonal kind, so it'll go away when the sun is out more. But if I'm still struggling this hard in a month, I guess I gotta start making some phone calls. 

I really, really hope it clears up on its own.

March 2, 2011

I'm really not sure what to write. I feel like a possessed woman. 

After taking a four-hour "nap" this afternoon, for the first time in days I feel like the blanket of crazy unwrapped from my brain. But earlier? Totally broke down sobbing when I realized I'd written the wrong name on a check that I'd already sealed, though not sent, in an envelope. In the moment, it was the cumulative pinnacle of my failure as a human being.  

My period ended yesterday and my yeast infection came right back. Or maybe it'd never gone away? Took a trip to Planned Parenthood to get that shit sorted Officially F'reals because ten days of a bonfire crotch is more than enough. 

At the end of my visit I told my doc how much I appreciate what Planned Parenthood does. She started to suggest that it would be helpful if I called my senator to let him know I felt that way and I accidentally interrupted her because my husband already did that when all the governmental de-funding news first broke. She told me how important PP is to her because growing up the only insurance her family had was for major accidents, everything else came right out of pocket. 

I donated $20 when I paid for my medication. It's impossible for me to think of people who want to shut down PP and not consider them Bad Guys.