Welcome To My Bed

Playing with Charades.

A friend of a friend's band, Charades, brought me a to sort of defunct hookah bar in Morristown yesterday afternoon/evening to a concert that should have been free (and remained free because I skipped out on paying). I am amazed that people I know play this music. It is constantly stuck in my head. At any rate, the night progressed in vagabond fashion, first to Taco Bell, and then the Bisdale's, Jordan's (the drummer) back yard, and then finally Maggie's backyard.

Now, my friends have known these three guys for a good amount of time, and I felt very much out of place. Instead of ignoring my awkwardness, every time I got very nervous I would spit out a random fact. (i.e. "Bats eat 10,000 mosquitos an hour", "There's a lull in the conversation every seven minutes", etc.) This was a way to contribute to conversations I felt very much on the fringes of. My anxiety has really been getting the better of me lately.

While waiting to get going to Morristown, I was sitting outside in my driveway with my cousin who happens to be autistic and therefore has a very different view of the world. He constantly asks questions, and I usually find the repetition of concrete facts very comforting. But yesterday it was like he was narrating my anxiety. "Where's your friend?" "When are you going to leave?" "Where is she?" "Are you worried?" "What are you doing tomorrow?" "Did you go to church today?" "What is your friend doing tomorrow?" "Are you mad at her?" "Where is she?" "Where is she?" "Where is she?" Eventually I just couldn't handle it anymore. I had to start tuning him out, and I felt incredibly guilty. Self-preservation is often times of paramount importance.

I wrote a bit yesterday as well, in the midst of everything. I'm grateful that something good is coming of me worrying and needing to be constantly focusing on something productive to keep from driving myself crazy. My handwriting got more and more illegible as the night wore on, as a result of a very blue energy drink slurpee, as well as more beers than anyone else managed to drink. It's a miracle I didn't want to die this morning when we woke up and all decided we needed a diner breakfast to keep our stomachs from mutiny. I don't remember much about sleep, just wonderful wisps of dreams where James was in New Jersey with me and hanging out with all of us, jamming with Rob and Josh and putting me at ease just like always. I miss him so much. I can't wait for him to get the package I mailed him this weekend. Who knows how long that will take. I wonder.

I'm thinking we'll all go bowling tonight, and that will be a welcome departure from lying in bed thinking about the rare occasions when I leave the house for reasons outside of going to work. This week I need that more than anything. Saturday I leave for the vacation from hell. I still have no idea what to bring, other than bathing suits. And I can't help wanting someone to look at me like I see everyone else getting looked at recently. This is all rough stuff.