Wow.

Today was the first time in the past two years that I've cried. As in, crumpled to the floor and felt so despondent that I couldn't move.

It was so intense.

Anti-depressants really mess with the brain, I tell ya. They suppressed so much. I miss my pills for three days, and BOOM. Niagara Falls and I start yelling at my boss.

Science is so fucked.

Dreamin'!

I just had a dream that I was waiting tables, and I kept getting people's orders, but they wanted more things, different things every five minutes. Every bottle of wine they ordered came from the bar arrived, but it was the wrong year or grape and I started to realize that every guest was drunk beyond function. Everyone kept yelling gay slurs and I started getting upset.

Then some girls with gelled back hair and muffin tops start walking through the restaurant, whispering amongst each other. They're trying to help their brother escape the restaurant, this boy, and he runs past me and through the crowd holding a mess of bloody limbs and when he walks out the door, they have electronic sensors and they go off because there's price tags on the bloody limb ankles.


THIS is why I'm not allowed to eat big meals and nap, folks.

I need a sewing machine.

Whenever I bring clothes to be mended at the seamstress on State, I feel like she looks at me with eyes that say "Why can't you fix these simple things yourself, you 28 year old child?" Then she overcharges me for them.

It's either her or the fact that since she's asian, I feel like she's channelling my mother and I've really got to work on my insecurities of being a grown-up.

A text exchange...

Teddy: I'm gettin a $1500 tax refund! Woohoo!

Me: Let's go to the waterpark!

Teddy: Let's go to the moon!

Me: Let's go to Culver's!

Me: (on the way to the moon).

Paloma, Clara, Bell, Oscar, Atlas, and Linus

These are the names of my future children.

They're gonna be soooooooo cool.

Mo' money

Hello, my name is Stephanie. I just started balancing my checkbook today.

Yes, today. You know how I turned 28 last month? Remember that shit? I've gone years and countless overdraft fees too long. Somehow, putting a finite, solid number down in this check plastic-cased checking ledger makes everything so crystal clear.

"No, Stephie. You may not spend anymore money. You're out of it." My checking balance says this in a calm, commanding, unoffensive voice. I don't argue with it. It doesn't chastise me. It just let's me know. And I listen.

I find this a serendipitous event, because today while depositing money at the bank, the teller asked if I'd like to open up a savings account. I let out a deep, exasperated breath and said yes.

"Yes, I will grow up. Yes, I will take accountability for my finances and organize my funds."

I'm disappointed it took me this long, but I'm proud too, I guess. It's like I'm watching myself get on the bus to my first day of responsibility/financial planning school.

28. Ugh.

Birthdays just aren't that exciting anymore. I don't get that "OH-MY-GOD-CONFETTI-IS-GONNA-SHOOT-FROM-THE-CEILING Feeling" now.