squirrel

In bits and bites because I have a short attention span right now:

Double digits today. My skin still itches and burns. Whether that’s from the chlorine in the rehab pool or the cold and dry I cannot tell.

There’s this whiny-ass white chick whining about not knowing what to do about the black girl in her yoga class and I’m all “why don’t you just fucking TALK TO HER”. Seriously, is it that hard to give a fellow human being a nudge and a “Hey, how’s it hangin’?” Jen there gets the It’s Not About You Award this month.

Way before I read that, though, I had my second therapy appointment with Wade the Awesome and we had a good laugh about Pittsford, because… Pittsford. Full of Jens. And I said “My mom wants me to think about switching to the Pittsford Y because it’s closer, but I would feel weird there.” Because I would. I’d miss the chance of running into anyone and everyone that I now have at the downtown. Plus, the downtown is within spitting distance of my favorite cafes in the city. WIN.

I think I want to do my fifth-credit project for Doc Thalia on Maysoon Zayid. I want to focus the rest of my semester on mental health, because duh, plenty of experience there, but if I could choose? Maysoon is fucking awesome.

— You know, even wandering around that Y in my bikini, the last thought on my mind is “Damn, I bet these bitches wanna look like me.” Mostly it’s “Fuck, it’s the middle of winter and what am I doing in my scanties?” with a heaping helping of “Shit shit shit, these showers take their sweet time warming up” and oh yes “Please let rehab go okay today”. Then, after rehab, it’s “Hey, cool, there’s a HOT TUB HERE” and “Dude has some awesome ink”, while watching the clock and contemplating the American phenomenon that is the fully-dressed sauna. What? And yesterday it was “Aw, crap, totally overdid it, please don’t let there be Consequences” — which there were. Kinda put a damper on Eleven’s visit.

My legs still itch and I’m not sure if I’m hungry but I likely am, so I’d better make a snack.

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