The Thing?

Ok, here’s the thing. I’m totally bored. And a little paranoid. G said that I should come with a sign that reads, “Warning: Paranoid when stoned.” Heeee. Well, I wouldn’t say that I was paranoid, except for that I just did. But yesterday, during the dental procedure, when they cut open my jaw and removed my icky, so yucky tooth, and then replaced some jaw bone… sounds horribly complicated, they put me to sleep, but not really. They mostly used laughing gas, and then some sleepy, IV stuff. So that I could be “responsive.” Yeah, well. You are supposed to get all dreamy, far away on the laughing gas (although some people get violent, etc). I got stoned. And then really paranoid. And between my slurring words, my mind went into overdrive—“Oh, no! You’re stoned. You’re out of control! Danger! Danger!” At which point I force myself to take relaxing, deep breaths to calm the fuck down. Except guess where the gas is coming from. But luckily, the nice, go-to-sleep now stuff started to work.
And here I am at work. Work. Where I make my living. And get paid to do stuff, that no ordinary person would do just for the hell of it. And as EB, or I prefer bitcherella, is in an extended meeting. I’m writing a little ditty.
And apparently, I’m a little lonely. I guess from being by myself all day yesterday, except that I wasn’t. I was drugged and sleepy, but I woke up. And wanted to leave. So, my not-so-thought out plan involve G and me going somewhere. But I shouldn’t drive, that much I knew. But he wouldn’t come over. So I drove, mostly asleep and met him. And we walked around a big mall, and then I drove, kinda asleep, and went home and really slept. And now, I’m lonely. And probably a little drugged.
I started this blog… and kinda had the idea that it would be based, at least somewhat, around the idea of discomfort. And so far, it has.
Here’s the thing (again). It is utterly astounding to me how we, as a populace, are always so thoroughly ill at ease. At all times. Why is that? So, I’ve been examining (not really) my own comfort level(s). And I’ve discovered: NOT MUCH. Except that I rarely feel comfortable. Truly relaxed, ya know?
Yesterday, on the way to see G, I was becoming more and more – eh, not really upset, but uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be driving. I knew I shouldn’t be. But I am strong, and I could take it. I could make it. And I kept thinking, once I get there, I will be safe. G will be waiting for me. And then he wasn’t there, as I pulled up 2 minutes before the agreed upon time. In other words, right on time. And the disappointment I felt as I rang him, and he hadn’t left home yet, was acute. But not surprising. I love him, I truly do. But the feeling of being disappointed by him is not new. Our entire relationship, it seems as if he has disappointed when I needed him. But that is not necessarily the truth. I mean, I was fine. It wasn’t a big deal. And he has come through for me more times than anyone else.
But I always feel as if those I love have disappointed me. Always. Perhaps I am like Prince’s mother and just never satisfied. Or like Bette in Beaches- always wanting attention, and I wear people out. I don’t know, but this line of questioning is making me uncomfortable.