weighted

I was really excited to blog about something tonight but now that I am sitting in front of this blank screen I am at a loss for words.

Tonight when I was driving home from my Grandmother's, as the 'snow storm' was starting to spit down I was looking for an adjective to describe my present state of mind/mood.

And there it was on the commercial license plate in front of me. 

'Weighted.'

I have so many concerns right now, from my evolving relationship with my ex-boyfriend, to the dramatic and dynamic school environment (talk about negative energy), to my petty annoyances at my grandmother, to money, to neighborhood psychopaths, to hackers infiltrating some division of division of Visa which my bank uses and now I am getting a new pin and debit card -- to wondering at the future and watching the days slipping by wondering if I am on the right path.

Maybe now is my "archetypal" moment in my story to doubt my intentions. Everyone at Beauty School seems to be.

We got a new teacher there, Ms. Campbell, like the soup. She is Jamaican, which I think is cool but she definitely is not like any Jamaican on the coconut rum commercials (which is the extent of my knowledge of Jamaica). We definitely got the most conservative Jamaican. She even said today that she likes order. Needs routine. Structure.

So here we go, a whole new architect, we reassemble ourselves for whomever is in charge.

I actually think she is an excellent teacher, pushes you and if you follow through you can accomplish a lot.

But you can imagine the growing pains to get there.  Especially from 'lax-ville where for the last three weeks of school I have been doing whatever live performances I want despite the syllabus because we really had only a skeleton of direction. (Live performances are salon services you have to complete along with contact hours to get your license.  I have somewhere around 150-200 to do before graduation, but time, it sneaks up on you...)

My small class of 14 is hemorrhaging with at least 4 or 5 girls wanting to transfer to the private beauty school or to drop out completely.  You'd think a program with so much to hammer out as far as logistics might make student turnover a number one priority.

Seriously, beauty school is hard. Really desperately hard.

And no one understands this because they are like, "Oh, beauty school, yeah."

Sigh. I am too tired to even communicate the difficulty. I would take another four year degree any day. A four year degree in Anthropology and Psychology. Over hair. Because it would be easier.

Then there is my depressed friend who is more absent than not. I see the depression as a chasm between us, she gets more and more self involved with her "disease" and less and less involved in anything else.  She is on her Welbutrin, first day today and says she thinks she feels better but maybe it's too soon to tell. Today she left at 10:30 because the dr. at the health dept said there might be a side effect of nausea at first. Might be.  She left because she might have gotten nauseous.

Yaargh.

I mean, feeling better the first day you take a mind drug sounds like placebo affect to me.  Sometimes I think higher medicine is mind over matter and most people are as happy as they make their minds up to be anyway.  But again I will admit to being uneducated in the world of medicine, and depression.  I mean, I've gone to therapy for a year and a half now and not once ever has my therapist ever recommended any type of pill and yet my friend's therapist recommended it right off the bat.  We probably have different problems. I am just so puzzled. And quick to judge without all the facts. But anyway.

Then my ex-partner. Who lives with me. I think I am in a quagmire.  I am well known for my inability to break up with my partners, I would rather be dumped but I am continuing my engagement in rejection despite this fact.  Most of the time we get along fine but sometimes the claws come out. And I have to re-dump, even though we haven't re-gone-out. It's the proximity and being pretty amiable friends most of the time thing.  I am in this weird limbo. I hate this.

I guess what I am saying is I am tired.  And I missed the bachelor* last night for a dumb fight, dumb and petty and heartbreaking and passionate all at the same time fight. Sigh again.

*Don't judge me for liking trashy television. I am an intelligent, articulate lover of celebrity smut and filth, mainly because it's ironic and I don't really have to care, I just get to pretend and be relieved that at least I am not living my life like that. 

The money would be nice though.