For the first time in my life as an adult, I am unemployed. I officially qualified for unemployment from the state bureau. I am one of the millions they bitch about every day on Fox News. My "day job" no longer exists for me.
Of course it's hard to sever ties completely with those you spent so much of your day-time with for about two years. I'm still coming in after hours, consulting for cash. Paint is a hard business, on both sides. I only shifted across this line really. I probably shouldn't write this, but I'm not really unemployed. Oh, I feel so dangerous after typing that. Though not published yet, I know that having a job while drawing unemployment is both illegal and the american dream. Anyway, enough paranoia for one post.
Today is better than yesterday. My thoughts aren't so compartmentalized in my brain, unable to come together into a cohesive unit. Yesterday, probably just another full day of denial about my suffering as a possible mental case and subsequent-self-medication and the constant withdrawal associated with it, was awful. I wasn't hungry. I was exhausted yet couldn't sleep.
I'm on the nod again. Oxycodone. I don't know what I'm doing.
Now to what I really want to write down: my dream. This is a recurring dream I've been having since I was "fired." Here goes...
I always enter the dream walking down a street I'm pretty familiar with, but like all dreams not really. In my head it's the street that two of my dealers (one weed so not all negative) live on but not. It's a little different. It's a neighborhood street. There are always people in their front yards talking, grilling out, doing family things together. With me is always my friend Derrick. It's always him for some reason and I haven't even spoken to the guy in something like two years.
About a mile down this road on the left is a smallish ranch style house where I go every time. In it lives a black family: husband, wife, two sons and a daughter. When the dreams began, I was to be babysitting the kids. This never happens, however.
Mainly, there is always a conflict between the father of this family and myself. There is something about this man that is pure EVIL. I can't figure out why I'm dealing with this dream. In fact, last night, I literally fought him. He's the actor from Madea's Family Reunion who hits his wife and bla bla.
I broke his arm last night, in a jiu-jitsu style arm bar. VERY strange feeling to wake up to. What I remember so strongly is the surprise he felt as I physically dominated him. Usually when I'm in a fight in a dream, I can't hit anyone or succeed in fighting. But as I felt his elbow snap along my knee, you could sense how shocked at my strength this man was.
After this, I exit the house and find Derrick and we begin to drag very heavy things (car batteries, etc.) back up the street towards the main thoroughfare. We're walking and running, to save our lives it feels like, and eventually we end up @ the street that enters/exits my old high school.
This area is full of black people driving cars, leaving that school. And all I can keep saying is, "I hate that nigger. I'm gonna kill that nigger." THen someone would notice me and make a hateful face and i'd just mention, "oh, not you. it's somebody else."
that's pretty much it for last night. I'm getting a headache from staring that the screen.
Of course it's hard to sever ties completely with those you spent so much of your day-time with for about two years. I'm still coming in after hours, consulting for cash. Paint is a hard business, on both sides. I only shifted across this line really. I probably shouldn't write this, but I'm not really unemployed. Oh, I feel so dangerous after typing that. Though not published yet, I know that having a job while drawing unemployment is both illegal and the american dream. Anyway, enough paranoia for one post.
Today is better than yesterday. My thoughts aren't so compartmentalized in my brain, unable to come together into a cohesive unit. Yesterday, probably just another full day of denial about my suffering as a possible mental case and subsequent-self-medication and the constant withdrawal associated with it, was awful. I wasn't hungry. I was exhausted yet couldn't sleep.
I'm on the nod again. Oxycodone. I don't know what I'm doing.
Now to what I really want to write down: my dream. This is a recurring dream I've been having since I was "fired." Here goes...
I always enter the dream walking down a street I'm pretty familiar with, but like all dreams not really. In my head it's the street that two of my dealers (one weed so not all negative) live on but not. It's a little different. It's a neighborhood street. There are always people in their front yards talking, grilling out, doing family things together. With me is always my friend Derrick. It's always him for some reason and I haven't even spoken to the guy in something like two years.
About a mile down this road on the left is a smallish ranch style house where I go every time. In it lives a black family: husband, wife, two sons and a daughter. When the dreams began, I was to be babysitting the kids. This never happens, however.
Mainly, there is always a conflict between the father of this family and myself. There is something about this man that is pure EVIL. I can't figure out why I'm dealing with this dream. In fact, last night, I literally fought him. He's the actor from Madea's Family Reunion who hits his wife and bla bla.
I broke his arm last night, in a jiu-jitsu style arm bar. VERY strange feeling to wake up to. What I remember so strongly is the surprise he felt as I physically dominated him. Usually when I'm in a fight in a dream, I can't hit anyone or succeed in fighting. But as I felt his elbow snap along my knee, you could sense how shocked at my strength this man was.
After this, I exit the house and find Derrick and we begin to drag very heavy things (car batteries, etc.) back up the street towards the main thoroughfare. We're walking and running, to save our lives it feels like, and eventually we end up @ the street that enters/exits my old high school.
This area is full of black people driving cars, leaving that school. And all I can keep saying is, "I hate that nigger. I'm gonna kill that nigger." THen someone would notice me and make a hateful face and i'd just mention, "oh, not you. it's somebody else."
that's pretty much it for last night. I'm getting a headache from staring that the screen.