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I never used to do this

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      I have a piece of writing to share from my stream of consciousness that hit me after a very contentious phone call with a body shop that still has my CX30, after two months.     It also fits my theme for my master's. It's not very pleasant to read. I'm sorry in advance. I never used to yell at service workers. I worked in the service industry since I was old enough to work, I knew what it was like. I have a temper but I always try to be understanding of short staffed shifts, poor management, and food that just needs to cook. I will never be understanding of mechanics who want to take advantage of people.\ When I first broke down in Dani in California, I took her to a mechanic in Oxnard who was the worst one I’d ever experienced. Maybe I’d been blessed finding mine, but they were one in a million, and I should’ve known. From the start, he treated me like a whitewashed girl who knew nothing. He claimed I needed an oil change before even looking at Dani. I li...
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Untitled

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  I CRY. I CRY I CRY I CRY I CRY. MY EMOTIONS DO NOT END. THE GRIEF HAS NEVER STOPPED. I CRY. I SOB. I BAWL. I WAIL FOR MY BEST FRIEND ON MY KNEES AND MY EMOTIONS WILL NOT END. I CRY. I CRY I CRY I CRY I CRY. I GET DRUNK AND IT IS NEVER FUZZY. THE GRIEF WILL NEVER LEAVE.  i scream in my grief. 
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Dear God, It's Me Again, Can't Catch a Fucking Break.

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    Anyone remember my super devastating car crash? The one that killed my best friend? And still continues to ruin me every time I get drunk enough to remember I am in actually super crippling grief?     Remember that?     WELL GUESS WHO CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF HER CATCH A GODDAMN BREAK.     And why is it always on a trip to California? California, what are you trying to say? Am I supposed to stay, and that's why I break down? Do you hate me and that's my punishment? Does it matter to me?     So I'm driving to California, right, because I have to go to USC, to see the super misogynistic doctor who is very obsessed with what my medication is going to do to my womb, if I ever bear fruit, as if I'm bearing fruit at all right now.     And I'm driving safely! It's a bright sunny day, dry roads, light traffic, I am in the left lane behind a black pick up truck, with enough space between us to fit an RV. I know this because there's an...
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In Memoriam: Fuck the Ocean, the Universe, and Any Cosmic Entity

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      Shortly after I wrote the last post, I went to California, on a road trip, in my new Mazda, with Nick.     I wanted to go to Coronado, but I was afraid. Afraid because the beach Dani and I used to go to all the time was going to prop up memories. Afraid to do it alone, but afraid to do it with Nick. I wasn't sure how I'd react, and I wasn't sure he'd be helpful. Not even I know what to do with my grief. How could an outsider know, even one who knows me best?     A little secret: sometimes I blame Nick for the accident.     That's not fair, and that's not true, but in my most irrational moments, I can trace the fault lines all the way back to him on that day, and I can trace them back even farther.     I moved into my new place that day, he came to see it, left and said we should get dinner. I was sweaty. I'd been cleaning all day. It wasn't a fancy place, but it didn't feel right to go to my first dinner as a renter with sweat...
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Dear Dani: I miss you, I'm sorry, I miss you, I'm so sorry. Why couldn't I go with you?

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      I have been refusing to make this post since it happened.              The family joke from the day I got Dani is that if she went, I went. I would die when she did. And I poured everything I had into making sure she did not. I poured everything I had into that car. The joke was that I would stop paying for repairs when she needed an engine rebuild, and even then, probably not. I'd probably rebuild it. We traded suffering. She drove me when I needed to cry and scream at night, and I suffered sweat and financial costs when she had some issue on the way to the beach.     I was so, so, so stupidly in love with that car. My pride and joy.     Notice the past tense? Tell me you see where this is going, because I want to cry writing this without even saying the words.     I always thought if Dani were to leave me, it would be in the kind way. One final wheeze to the beach and back, and I could let her g...
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Day One

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      Can I just say, in the nicest way possible, that Dani terrified me on the way there? I love her to bits and pieces, but I have a trauma response to passing the California welcome booth, because when her coolant relay gave out, that's where it gave out.     I don't think my passenger noticed, because at that point he was starting to yawn, but I was white-knuckling that whole area. Whatever, I've dealt with worse.     It was when we stopped to get gas that I might've fucked up a little. I say get gas, but that's a nicer way of saying my coffee ran through me and I was trying to let Nick sleep, but it was wake him up or pee myself. Needless to say, I pulled over at the next exit and woke him up.      When we got back from the bathrooms, a homeless guy wandered up to me-- me, who had decided to put gas in anyway, even though I had half a tank left, AND I saw the homeless guy, but I refused to be deterred from my mission-- and asked if ...
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This Reminds Me: a baby post that isn't about my anxiety

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     Since I'm documenting this trip, I figured I should share the one thing I'm realizing about actual trips. The ones with nights, since you all know I mostly do beach days .      Packing is confusing!  It's a beach trip, but I know I'll need actual clothes since I will be perceived outside of the beach and hotel room and yet. I rearranged my beach duffle bag, packed four towels and four swimsuits with shoes and coverups, and I have not packed ANYTHING outside of that.      I literally leave the day after tomorrow. And I have no idea what clothes to pack. I have not even LOOKED at my suitcase. Holy God. Suddenly I can't remember what people put in suitcases to go places. Suddenly I want to pack like I'm going to shit my pants 27 times a day and be lost in the wilderness for a million years.     This is also going to be such a niche post, but maybe I've talked about him enough that you'll all understand/remember. My uncle is a...
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