Zombie

I am a zombie today. I need to balance my time more efficiently so as not to be handling radioactivity while completely delirious.

Let's see.

Mood today - minorly stressed. Not for any reason in particular, just the build up of life chores that will consume more of my weekend than I'd like. I was only in my apartment once this week, so I know that when I get home tonight I will be met by Dirty Loft and Piles of Dishes and Ten Bags of Trash That Need to Be Taken Out and Bills and Hungry Cat and Unpacking and Grocery Shopping. Blah. I also need to work on three comics this weekend. Blah again. It will be hard to do without Photoshop, so I will spend the weekend being stressed out that I am not working on the three comics. I also have to practice music. And oh how I would love to write music. And make progress on the list of 40,000 phone calls that have to be made. My goal is to make and complete 6.

I'd like to relax. I'd like to watch TV. I'd like to read a book or magazine. I'd like to think "Two days with infinite potential!" but instead its two days already booked with personal anal tasks such as the washing of sheets and towels, which I've been procrastinating for months. I live in New York City but will be spending yet another weekend not allowing myself to experience it.

I don't know why I am so unsettled when things linger. I'm sure most people are like "Screw it, I have other things to do, the dishes can wait!" but no, not me. I can't function if the dishes surpass a certain level.

The only leisurely thing I will do this weekend is see Aviator, which is supposed to be good. And long. And escapist. Yes.

The problem with being busy during the week is that your weekends disappear. I have to be more disciplined. I have to be at home. I have to draw at night. I have to call my parents on a Tuesday.

I wanted to shop this weekend. I am having one of those weeks where I loathe my entire wardrobe. I want new jeans and sweaters and black shoes and girly earrings. I also want another haircut. Current haircut, which was exquisite for a month, is growing out weirdly. Too many layers. There is, however, no time for shopping this weekend or a haircut any time in like the next month. Next weekend, I swear!, the comics will be done and I will be walking into fabulous boutiques and spending money I don't have on adorable outfits that will make me feel pretty. And maybe, just maybe!, I will actually go to a museum or gallery, which I have been trying to do since I moved here.

I am supposed to go to a party at Bench Buddy's tonight. His lawyer girl roommates are throwing it, and he's worried. He said "They're not like us." I said "Shit, should I, like, dress up or something to fit in?" and he said "NO!!! NEVER!!!! Come AS IS." Sigh. Little does he know that I won't be coming at all, because I won't be able to leave my house until it is spotless and the mail has been read and I have unpacked and played some piano and fed the cat and laundry is finished and nap is complete. I said "I am going to take a nap tonight before your party, and in all honesty, I might not wake up until tomorrow." I think he understands.

It's difficult because it would be far easier to just say "Bench Buddy, I've been up until all hours this week (and for the past few weeks) hanging out with the most amazing man on the planet," but instead I have to be secretive and lie.

Which was especially difficult today, because I spent a portion of last night with Bench Buddy so he knows I wasn't out on the town raging. D invited a friend of his over and said "You should come by, and you can invite Bench Buddy if you want." The four of us hung out for a bit, during which D made macaroni with many cheeses from scratch and poured me multiple chocolate martinis while we watched Pootie Tang.

(News Flash: We are listening to a Classic Rock station right now and they are playing Stone Temple Pilots' Interstate Love Song. I am old. I also like the song White Room way more than I probably should.)

Bench Buddy got bored and left, so I just pretended that I stayed at D's really late and had more chocolate martinis than I should have. Right. Which isn't really that much of a lie, right? Right!

After Bench Buddy left, the three of us played Hangman, which was surprisingly fun. Not because Hangman in and of itself it fun, but because D's friend is an architect and was getting out of control with his detailed nooses etc. Which prompted us to try to one up each other every time it was our turn to pick the word. D drew a guillotine, I drew a grim reaper and then an electric chair and then death via walking the plank. Arrrgghhhhhh!!!!! D's friend drew lethal injection and death by gunshot and a gory cycling accident.

Once Hangman got old (which it didn't, really, we just couldn't think of any more ways one could be executed) we played 20 Questions. When we were little, I swear this game didn't take hours, but last night we kept picking things that took forever. And it was awesome because someone would ask a global question like "Is it bigger than a basketball?" and then the next person would follow it with something like "Is it fondue?" without having any idea if it was even edible. D was like "Is it really supposed to take 400 questions to figure this out?" It did. Every time. Do we just pick more complex things as adults?

I sucked at it, because I was so tired.

I am still so tired.

I've been writing this entry for hours because I keep getting distracted because I am so tired.

Which reminds me that my experiment is coming up.

OK, folks, an hour more of work and then I am leaving early, because everyone else left early to ski in Vermont, where the high is supposed to be -1.

Stay warm!