A woman's work is never done...

Threw up again at work. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was bulimic. Still kinda nervous about the whole pregnant thing. But I'm pretty sure I'm not taking good enough care of my body to sustain life. I'm barely sustaining my own. My clothes are literally hanging off my body. Hope baby likes booze and pretzels, because that's what it's getting. And hot dogs. I eat a lot of those.

I think this cold is on its last legs. I'm pretty positive I cracked a rib though. I'm in constant pain, though the cold itself is fading. It's putting up a pretty good fight, but I will echinacea it into oblivion. Sorry I got you sick, Abby. At least I didn't get you pregnant.

I was raging pissed yesterday. I'm in the "good riddance" phase finally. The "no-I-don't-want-to-be-friends-because-you're-not-good-enough-for-that" phase. I am a far more lenient girlfriend than friend, and he just doesn't make the cut. And I miss the sex, but just because I miss having regular sex, not really with him in particular.

And who had my back? My gays. Devon had a stressful day at work, so I met up with him at Shag for happy hour. Happy two hours. And he let me rant and rave and commiserated with me and supported me and it was really sweet and completely empowering. When we got home, I had a message from Dustin. Apparently, he is having a little boy trouble as well. When he finished, I told him all that was happening in the passive-agressive nightmare I've entered, to which he replied in typical Dustin fashion--

"You win!"

I always win. Even when I'm being a total loser.

I've been sleeping like a baby. And he has not entered a single one of my dreams of late, and this morning, I didn't wake up hoping he had text-messaged me like he used to.

I did have a hilarious dream, though. I dreamt Abby was in town (and I guess I was still in college) and we bullshit all our time away, and apparently I had a solo-performance piece to do for Amparo (my prof). And I managed to bullshit my way out of it, since Amparo was the easiest teacher to do such things with, and I was watching everyone else go as I tried to create something out of the nothing I did.

What did I choose to do? While talking about the gruesome details of serial murders, I made my mom's famous meatballs. For extra gross effect, when I was talking about blood loss I would pour the tomato sauce into the pot from up high. Apparently, my solo performance was all about making everyone really nauseous.

The clock kept reading 11:25. It's the only thing in that dream that I think could mean anything other than I shouldn't drink so much tequila before bed. But I don't know what that could be.

I think I had forgotten how much better I sleep when I sleep alone. Me and Fluffy. How it always should be.

Now I'm at work and the prospect of doing the same shit all day all over again is very...draining. But I think I'm done with this assignment soon and I couldn't be happier about that.

I'm not going to write in LiveJournal anymore. Here was the last thing I posted:

the end of nights we tried to die...

a white flag answered in silence.
which i guess is just a waste of fabric.
ah well.
this is how these things go
and we wander aimlessly on
coughing up our history
onto strangers on the train.
they did not stop to think they died instead
until happy hour called them out again.
rise and meet your day to day-
the snow falling on the window pane,
and settles and rests upon your face
and melts like a tear upon your cheek
i do not think they'll cry for me.
exit as gracefully as you can
not showing that your dress has
ripped down the back.
i end it how i started-
a white flag answered in silence
and a poem without a comment.

I like it. I need to start writing more poetry again. And it's the note I would like to end my LiveJournal experience on. So I hope you, my dear friends, got this website and want to keep up with me this way. Lord knows, a very interesting journey is right around the corner.

Hilariously tragic. Horrendously funny.

This is the way the world begins.