Category Archives: painting

how to not talk about yourself for a nite

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so tomorrow is fil’s christmas work party that i said yes we should attend, one part due to curiosity (what do these people look like?)(and i should let these people see what i look like, it’s only fair) and one part novelty, ok mostly novelty, and yes i am nervous about it. they know his girlfriend of four years is an artist of some sort and a writer with a popular website, they have nagged him for the url and he has been adamant about denying them access. basically i’m going there with zero material, which is great for this situation (not really) when your personality is uh colourful it’s kind of hard to be comfortable in a work atmosphere setting. when they talk shop i am going to be grinning my brains out and nodding so hard i’ll set off the fire alarm. fyi work nerds it is rude to socially alienate your co-worker’s spouse, and i know you don’t do it intentionally, you just have fuck all to say to this stranger. it’s kind of insecure.

i went to a work xmas party of fil’s before a few years ago, different company, i was bigger then and my hair was selma blair short = NO GAME. plus i was wearing a really bad dress. sometimes you think eccentricity will carry you that last mile, and sometimes yes it will and does, but mostly, sorry, it so doesn’t. in this situation especially. no one “gets” your babysitter potato sack dress because their focus exists in the corporate world alone. all they “get” is that you look dumpy and unladylike.

i cannot say the word raymi once tomorrow nite, i get to stumble over my words and accomplishments and what i normally have ten answers for i must tone down to one, or two. luckily at our table there will be a talker, you know you say something about a sprinkler and turns out this person invented irrigation.

your partner’s work function is NOT your place to shine which i guess is the root of my fascination of attending, smile nod, smile wider, show teeth, agree agree agree – because it is the complete opposite of who and what i really am, i feel like i am acting for the nite. i dunno, i get off on uncomfortable situations perhaps?

i feel fraudulent all the time, i feel inadequate all the time, i feel everything all the time, so whatever.

this was supposed to be a goofy little guide now it’s just a note to self, really.

i do not plan to compromise my entire existence don’t worry, i will wear my frye boots with this dress, i don’t know what sweater/shrug to wear with it though, my friend said if i pair my new belted sweater with this i will get cut eye from the office women, don’t know why though, maybe cos it would be bordering on that eccentricity shit i was talking about.

safe topics of discussion are cute/funny non-offensive viral videos on the internet, when someone brings up that fucking lion hugging its long lost owner video, do not say you saw it ten million years ago, subtly fill in the story gaps like you just remembered them yourself. do not talk politics. only do sarah palin impression if fil says so. don’t drink too much. do not dance. period. don’t cry when you see other couples dancing and poke fil incessantly under the table and sternly whisper in his ear about why he NEVER EVER dances with you. when fil says it’s time to go, GO. (i have a problem with instantly liking certain people too much and bonding with them when i first meet them thus swatting away fil’s hand when he gestures it’s time to leave) get drunk on the couch (instead of at the work party) watching snl. good nite.


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today

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i went for an assessment today and it was cleansing, i was super nervous beforehand, but all in all i feel good about it now. i’ve decided to be truthful and not sugar coat things or reveal my website this time though if this person is savvy enough they could just google me – i don’t want it to turn into me performing for an hour from a chair and making zero progress whatsoever. i haven’t had a THE RAPIST in a long time. basically i want to get to the bottom of my anxiety which is a direct result of my drinking which is a direct result of my depression and bipolar mood disorder. wheeeeeeeeeeeeee.

a lot of people suffer from anxiety and are ashamed and embarrassed by it, i know sometimes i feel extremely guilty about inconveniencing others so i keep it to myself and that is such a stupid idea. you cannot possibly fix a situation if you hide it and do nothing about it.

here’s the thing, i’m not ashamed of therapy or afraid of it, i do feel a bit sheepish walking into the building though like a fluorescent red arrow is hovering over my head, ugh, but then i get inside and see people far worse off looking than i then i think ok what’s that guy have, crack, methadone addiction, gambling? then i think ok shut up focus on yourself and this magazine and then i look at the models and think yeah she is so on pills, anyway, point being, we are all fucked up in our own special way, so get the fuck over it if you ever want to make anything of your life.

i’ve been self-medicating for years and i realise the drunk glorification cuteness window is pretty much coming to a close, as someone recently told me drinking is now a necessity (for her) which i relate to way too much, so if something isn’t done about it now before my face turns into amy winehouse’s i’m going to be in trouble.

i told the chick (i don’t know what to call her) that i am a functioning alcoholic and that i drink because it’s a part of my lifestyle and that everyone i know drinks and there is always an excuse for it, i want to change but i don’t exactly know how. the time when i was sober was the most depressing most boring time in my life, i don’t see myself as ever being 100% sober, just hopefully very much toned down.

i had to fill out this questionnaire on a computer at the beginning and then at the end of the session we went over it and i got to keep a copy, there’s graphs of my ambivalence toward my addiction, how i get along with people, support from friends and family etc, she said that was good, sometimes that part of the graph is empty for people older than me, at 25 people still have tolerance for your bullshit, but when you’re 40 they’re just like you are on your fuckin’ own dude you crashed my car and pissed in my closet PEACE. anyway, i decided on my own steed to do this and no i haven’t pissed in anyone’s closet haha.