Aspiring to be Beeps

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Bounce back. Yesterday was gloomy, today is bright and shiny and Rotterdam seems to have taken an extra Prozac this morning. I’m off of a luscious swim, thanks to a Tramadol one hour before starting. On my walk home I stopped to feed George – of course. Several ducks are getting cozy with me, daring to step closer and closer now that George has shown them the way. Then to top things off, five cats were outside enjoying the sunshine and ready and willing to give me some cat love.

I am full of what the morning has offered me. 🙂

Dragged my fat ass out of the house yesterday and walked. Walked like I did before I threw my back out this last time. Walked ’til I made my heart beat and my cheeks pink. I’ve been easy on myself since my birthday and subsequent back damage, not pushing myself. That stopped yesterday, and the full flow of endorphins back in my brain from sweating is fucking awesome. Gimme this in pill form.

My bank account is open. My balance is at zero; I’ve still got to pop some funds in there. But it’s open. My card is being sent. In a few weeks I should be able to update my computer and stop getting all those ‘you’re out of date’ messages. Yea! I’ll be happy to see those gone from my life. And it seems Chrome will translate pages for me automatically; I can get through PayPal. All that I need now is for someone to pay me.

Addiction Central is starting to get info from me, too. Their online forms are getting filled in. Ugh. The translations don’t always work. Sometimes I’m just guessing what they want to know. Oh, well. It’s somewhere to start from. I’ll probably get all sorts of questions about it during my first appointment. Joy. Not thinking too much about it. The alarm on my computer will go off a day before to remind me. Until then, forget it.

It’s nice to be able to say that – forget it – and actually be able to DO it, too.

At the moment, I doubt very much if I’ll be able to get anything done today other than play. Let me set the scene: my brother is standing to my left, recording a bass line in on his computer. He’s got to rehearse sections a few times, then record it. The supermarket on the ground floor is getting a delivery; I can hear the lorry’s engine. And somewhere below me, some work is going on. An electronic tool is being used, and sounds very much like some sort of machine fart that goes on and on.

Just a few distractions.

That’s okay. I’m in mulled brain mode. Been tossing a lot ideas around, looking for something to pull out my hat. No rabbits have coalesced in my hand, though, so I’m just holding one arm out in the air, waiting. I have no idea if I’ll jump to music or write another story or go off on some mad idea that’s supposed to make me money. For reals. Again. Not like before. 😝

…Yesterday at the bank, the woman who was taking down my info and helping me noticed my birthdate and said “You’re fifty? I’m fifty too!” and I didn’t know how to respond. I looked at her sagging, wrinkled skin and thought um, great? Should I be scared? Offended? Pleased I don’t look like you?. So I didn’t react at all. Probably rude of me. But really! What was I supposed to say? Congratulations? Welcome to the club? What?

Ach, and while I’m addressing my icky-ish feelings I’ve got to pony up to another stress. I’ve noticed I’ve been getting a few more followers. My numbers have been increasing. While that side of me that NEEDS those gold stars is happy as a camper (WHY are campers happy?), I’m also feeling increased pressure. To measure up, I guess. Which is silly, because people won’t follow me if they don’t enjoy what I write. So, just keep writing like ya do, eejit. Somehow that don’t cut it for me, tho. That knowledge is in the back of my brain…people are listening, watching. I’ve been told I’m afraid of success and leadership. Yes, and yes. Success means more people watch you fall. Leadership means I’m responsible for more than just me. I’m uncomfortable with both of those ideas. Yet I hate being ignored. Contrary me. I can never make up my fucking mind which way I want it.

But, dahlings, you know Beeps, a side of me I present to you all packaged and neat in words. I don’t believe I come off as cool and together IRL as I seem here. I think my life would be QUITE different if I did. Hell, even I aspire to be Beeps. Ha! I guess we DO need those WWBD ankle bracelets.

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