... I'm so fucking tired.
Now see, I don't talk about marital problems on my blog. You're welcome. It's strange to me. I can sit here and write jokes about retards or holocaust jokes or nasty details about my sex life but if Natasha and I have problems I will refuse to write about it here.
So I won't expound on the details of the various things my wife and I are working through. I'm not Michael Burns (no offense). All I'll say is that I'm tired. I'm tired and angry and sore and hungry and I'm trying my damnedest to try and feel happy again. Which is an uphill battle for me.
Storytime was a big success. We had about 35 to 40 people there watching the amazingly loud and silly craziness. However due to some rather personal scheduling problems my wife did not film the event so there's no YouTube footage for me to share, only a few fairly blurry photos of the very end, which was when my wife ran in. I'm still a bit upset about that (and I'm also still a bit upset about staying up until 4am waiting for her to come home) but I'll get over it eventually.
So here's the pics. It was a really good storytime and I'm excited about the plotlines yet to come. We're just getting started with this thing. BTW Captain Book's weakness is poetry ...
In other news I've quit drinking. Temporarily. I kinda had to and I'm not too excited about it.
See, I was depressed a few months ago and my so doc hooked me up with happy pills which tripped my balls out hardcore (which I liked) but eventually they just ended up making me even MORE depressed than before. I mean, I wasn't suicidal because that's just not in me nor will it ever be but I was definitely near the vicinity of that particular causeway, know what I'm saying?
So I got off that stuff and ended up diving headfirst into cases and cases of beer. In the past few weeks I've been drinking about a six pack of beer pretty much every single night. And I haven't been eating. And I've had chest pains and stomach problems even worse than the ones I usually have with my hideous stomach disease.
What's worse, even though my wife vehemently disagrees with me, is that I'm starting to develop a beer belly. It's the tiniest of bellies as far as bellies go but to someone like me with an eating disorder whose been skinny all his life it feels like the whole world is staring at my fat stomach.
So I've temporarily quit drinking. I'm trying to eat regularly and semi-healthy and not drink any alcohol at all for as long as I can.
The bad part about that is that I've developed this nasty silent temper. Things build up inside myself and pressure builds up more and more and more and it becomes this screaming white pain behind my eyes. I cannot express anger at all. It's not in me to get angry. But things at home and at work and with certain other rival stores have been pushing me and pushing me and it just succeeds in pushing me deeper and deeper into myself. I cut myself out of the rest of the world when I get angry. I'm listening to my iPod and I won't be talking to people and I'll be constantly ramming my fist into hard concrete walls until my knuckles get red and bleed internally. It's none too good.
Not drinking, not having some way to calm my ass down, is going to be really hard for me.
We have money, though. And that's good. We got our tax return a few days ago and what with us having two kids it's a ve-e-e-e-ery substantial return. And I know I should be happy about that. But a huge chunk of it went to massively backstocked bills and that usually knocks the wind out of any excitement I have about having money in the bank.
It's just so incredibly hard for us to live on just my pathetic little bookstore paycheck. See, Natasha works "occasionally" but her job has less to do with customer service and more to do with whips and chains. And she doesn't do it on any sort of regular basis, so it's pretty much just be at work doing the work of like four other employees, busting my ass for a small paycheck that doesn't even come close to covering my girls' needs.
I'm going to have to get a second job. That sucks so much ass.
My wife threw me a surprise party at Arizona. It was supposed to be this big party with a whole bunch of people from my high school and my elementary school days. It was supposed to be huge. But only three people showed up. A ton of people said they were coming but only three showed up. I'm trying to take that in stride and not get hurt and offended and cry about it and turn it into another brick in the wall.
There's rough weather ahead for me, I fear.