Dipsy-doodle neurotic actress

That title comes out of My Mother’s Keeper by B. D. Hyman.

Anyway.

Tis another wasted day in the land of Mandalay.  We have only been awake a short time.  I was supposed to go check on some assistance with the electric bill this morning, but I didn’t.  I’m gonna do a bad thing and tell Mama that I did, though.  She is of the opinion that we need to explore any avenue of assistance.  I agree, but I’m also sure they’d require a termination notice, and we don’t have one of those.

I am displeased with myself, but that is nothing new, either.  I don’t feel very good.  It’s cold and my insides feel funny.

I want to cry, and I couldn’t tell you why, really.  I have nothing in particular on my mind.  I just feel a strong urge to cry.

Weird bird, aren’t I?

I had another dream about Daddy.  He came back after 15 years of death again.  This dream was so realistic that I believed it, though.  I was sporadically bursting into tears in the dream.  I’d be talking, and a sob would come out, followed by streams of tears.  I told one old friend that I had had a lot of dreams about Daddy coming back after all this time, but that this time he really WAS back.  And I believed it!

He’s dead, Piers.  You’ll have to accept that someday.  It’s been almost 16 years.  If you can’t accept it yet, then when will you?

I just wish he’d quit haunting my dreams this way.  Maybe I could dream about him without it tearing me apart.  Who fucking knows?

I think I’ll find something to eat.  Maybe that will help me feel better.

Love to all,

PdC