"I know what my decision is . . . and it's not to decide."

So I was floating about my Facebook feed when a new entry from The Bloggess showed up.

If you don't follow her, you should.  She's flipping hilarious.  

But anyway.  Her psychiatrist is pressuring her to "make a plan."  

Now this one hit home for me.  So, although I don't usually reach my hand out to the ether of the internet, I wrote up a response to her.

"Hey listen. Friend in the universe. I wouldn't respond because you probably won't see this, but maybe you're just as neurotic as me and you will read EVERYTHING.

I know you're a bit older than me (I'm 27), but I have never had a plan. Like, ever. I tried to go into elementary education in college because it was "safe" and "stable" . . . but it was also bullshit. I don't need to be taught how to teach kids to draw with crayons. So I went the ME route. I got a degree in theatre performance. Yes, the loans are eating me inside out, yes, it was a whimsical choice, yes, it's highly unlikely that I would ever succeed with it as I have bipolar disorder, but damn it, it was my choice.

I've been feeling my way about ever since. I still don't have a plan. But the pieces all seem to fall into place when I need them too. After college I got involved with non-profit animal welfare, and now think that it might be a viable career choice (albeit meager). My boyfriend (now husband) has always been my rock, my bread-bringer-homer, and my reason. And I am, for the first time, acting "professionally." Someone's paying me for that shit. And damn it, that makes it a good day to be me.
{"Reflection" by Seasonal, DeviantArt.}

So I say - you don't need a plan. Because not having one is a PLAN TOO."


Bitch Sesh.

I am not going to be proud of the following post.  And I might take it down eventually.  But sometimes you just need to expunge.

One of my good friends has recently lost a serious amount of weight in a matter of a month or two on some gimmicky diet.  It sounds similiar to meal replacement (i.e. Slimfast).  Instead of being properly happy for her and supportive, a cruel, unfamiliar D surfaces to be spiteful.  Jealous.  Dismissive.

Somehow through everything, and I mean every FUCKING thing, I remain sunny.  Positive.  I approach each day like a new beginning.  And to see myself respond this way is saddening and oh so desparate.

How large a role do my individual chemical nuances play/prey upon me?  I've watched certain medications outright up my ante.  But I take it now to be certain and true that they affect my ability to lose weight.

{Source unknown.}

I haven't had the best habits.  Thus, after 10 years of medication, I'm now 60 pounds from where I should probably be. I'm legitimately trying, and properly this time.  I'm being mindful of intake as well as integrating exercise.  It's benefitting but nothing's really changing.

{Source Unknown.}

And I'm frightened.  I'm frightened too.  To try harder.  To completely alter my habits.  I always have been.  Because then what?  I know what.  Mania.  Making better decisions for myself leads to a tip of the scale in a happier direction.  A too happy direction.  A euphoric direction.  A hallucinogenic direction.  An inpatient direction.

But guess what?  I LOSE WEIGHT THEN.


Adios, Amigos.

So, my Mexican Restaurant is going to close.  Of course no one has made any official proclamations, but uh, when you don't order enough food/products to keep on trucking, staff start to become suspicious.  I probably worked my last "workable" shift tonight.  So, as a tribute to my first employment in Florida, I shall PRO/CON it up.

What I WON'T miss about Mexicana:
-The drama.  Oh the drama.
-Schedules made weekly rather than biweekly/monthly.
-The owner who could give two shits about his business.
-Not knowing when we're going to get paid.
-Incorrect tip wage accounting.

What I WILL miss:
-José.  He was a cool guy.  Probably one that time will take with it, like so many others.
-<3 JUAN! <3  De nada, corazon!  Mi amor!  (My Spanish is FLAWLESS)
-Everyone's honesty about my culo grande.
-The occasional Spanish programming I watched.  Especially the programs with dancing girls that José fawned over.
-Talking about tacas.
-The language barrier.  It made for interesting conversations.

Just look at it.  It's SO BEAUTIFUL.