Rationalizing the Irrational
7:23 am- I hop into the blue mini van, wearing black and white polka dot jammie bottoms, grey t-shirt (sans bra) brown corduroy jacket and no shoes. My hair is tied up in an orange-beaded elastic bracelet, I have no make up on. I am brazen with my acne and wrinkles as I make the rounds to the JR. and High School.
Random thoughts about my general mal-content depression, (fuck!) and past injustices keep flowing through me head. I hate driving. I hate that there is no gas in this thing. I hate being broke. I hate asking family for money. I hate staying home all day. I hate getting kids ready for school when they seem to move in a passive aggressive slow motion as if they were trapped inside a giant jello cup. It’s cold. I can’t see. The wiper blades on my van have gone bad and the one on the left resembles a black octopus; the black plastic has split so many times that black string cheese softly smears water droplets into different water patterns that does shit for visibility.
More irrational thoughts. 1.5 microwave personal pizzas later and I am still in the same outfit without the jacket and the shoes. Therapy at 2. Wish I could wear what I am wearing there.
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