mess.

They say the state of your home is a direct reflection of your state of mind.

Right now?

This couldn't be more accurate.

You could really say that I've been out of my home for a month, with a bout of 3 days work between.

I made it through the last 2 days of work, but now I'm looking at everything I have to get done in a week and it's not pretty.

I have so much practising to do for our CD release party on the 17th!  I'm in dire need of some strong fingers after a month away from my instrument!

so the best thing to do is procrastinate and write to 'you', my imaginary friend.

I also have to get the cd burned within a week ...

gawd i hope they will do a rush job

... get my promo done and somehow make some sense of this house that looks like a hoarder has moved in. 

oh! i got to drop off a real live one yesterday at work. it was something to behold!

Clothes strewn, 2 days of dishes in disarray, tumbleweeds of dog and cat fur everywhere and then there's my honky fro.  It's turning into natty dreads alright.

Oh, and the cat litter is almost extinct, so you can imagine how nice that must be for the cats to be doing business in only a few inches of sand.  Not to mention, the smell.

So, is this reflecting my state of mind?

Hell ya.

Papi comes home tomorrow.  I miss my love terribly, but I'm so scared to see the end result.

Mi esposo said I don't have to look at it.  Does this mean there won't be anymore visions of my naked Papi running around the house?

No, I think not.  My love is a streaker for sure.  I won't be coddled from the view of the new Papi.

My mind is an absolute mess from thinking of everything that has to be done and the emotions that I'm experiencing.

This house has got nothing on me.  I win the disaster game.

I'm also in the process of working on a scar on my face.  The stress has made me find a little spot to pick on my cheek.

Do you think I can tell myself to leave it alone?  Nooooooooooooo.

I can't remember the movie, but there's an artist who was pals with ...

oh fuck here we go ... brain injury alert ... not even going to try to remember names right now.

oh! got it!

... Andy Warhol and he would just pick at that scab and it got bigger and bigger.  I'm pretty sure that's what I'm doing here.

gonna look hot for the release party for shoooooo-er

Then there's the mirror dysphoria.  There is a girl in the mirror that is much bigger than my jeans tell me.

Mess?

You betcha.

I can't wait to see my love tomorrow.  I realized something over the past few days upon returning without Papi.  Something that I've never felt.

I need my love.

I've never really needed anyone before.  I've never had someone in my life that can take this mess of a femme and calm me down.  I've never had someone who understands my insanity and doesn't run for the hills.

My love is good for me.

I need mi esposo almost as much as I love mi esposo.

would you leave that fucking scab alone for fucks sakes?!?!?!

Ok.

I'm going to go tackle the first thing on my list.

Oh, did I tell you my tattoo is infected?  Niiiiiiiiiiiiice.