State of the Steffness

In a couple minutes, my clothes need to be transferred to the dryer, which means I have to trudge back down (and up) the four flights of stairs (again). I hate laundry in this place, but I need clean jeans for the concert.

Lookin' em over, it appears I need new jeans pretty soon, which disheartens me. ($$) It's a good thing I'm exercising a lot all of a sudden, 'cos going down a size would feel pretty good when buying new ones.

I didn't do the epic ride I wanted to do yesterday. Fact is, I'm fuckin' dead on my feet these days. Just wiped. This weekend, I seriously need to catch up on sleep. Lord knows I'm not getting any with the gig tonight and the early appointment I have tomorrow.

I did, however, cycle home from downtown, which I've been avoiding all year. I usually take the long way, then bus back home over the hill. It's a bitch, really. My all-time worst for coming home from downtown is 1hour 15 minutes. It's only about 12km, but back then I was severely asthmatic and smoking a lot of dope. Ahem. My all-time best time is 34 minutes. Yesterday was 50 minutes, but with a couple bonus klicks thrown in for good measure, so I'm all right with that.

Today, I'll ride in and home, and tomorrow's a rest day, since I'll be deader on my feet than today. Gah. Dreading that. I'll only have to work a half-day, though.

I'm still feeling depressed. Fucking hate it. At least now I'm starting to lose the shame I was feeling -- shame from eating badly, being anti-social, not exercising. It's easier to deal with depression on its own than all the self-destruction that usually comes with.

I'm still smoking dope, too, and it's not doing a lot for me. I figure I have three or four more days of "lots" of dope left, and then I'll burn the hell out and get off it for a goodly length of time again.

These days, I seem to smoke dope for about two weeks, then I get off it for a couple months. I've smoked a little more of late than I had in the many months before, but I've had reason to need to vent. I don't like the habit over all, not like I used to. I don't like who I become as a result of it as much as I used to. I'm more conscious of it being a crutch and a need than I've ever been before, and that too takes some of the joy from it. Now I'm just trying to go out in a flame so I get really sick of it and resentful of it, and hopefully lose the will to do it.

The trouble is, it's easier to get fazed out on a bowl of dope than to live in the present when the present's the last place you really want to be. I want to be two weeks from now, a month from now, a year from now, but I really don't want to live this day, you know?

(No, no, that's not some veiled suicide threat. Don't be stupid. I'm just sick of the fucking status quo and want to know, a month from now, that I'm reasonably secure in a new job, that the film I might be landing has been greenlighted and I'm being hired, or that I can afford new clothes for fall, or whatever it takes. Anything but this "I don't know for sure" bullshit that plagues my days right now. Everything's in limbo. I hate limbo. I've never danced a limbo. Never will. Fuck, man.)

But at least there should be an okay show tonight. I'll be bitter if there's no covers, but whatever. It's a free fan-appreciation gig, and you gotta love someone who has the decency to do that from time to time. I hate it when people will only do their job for money, never for appreciation. It's petty.

Okay, good, I feel a little less grumpy. I'm riding into work again today, did I mention that? Dreading it already, heh. GRR! Laundry now, then pancakes. Life is better with pancakes -- especially blueberry-oatmeal pancakes made by the one and only Steffchick.