It's Just Another Manic Friday. Wait, What?

I have a lot of thoughts tonight.

Like how easily a promise is made; how easily it is broken. What is a promise, anyway? Something that we just tell someone else or to ourselves, because we want it to be true? Should we really even make promises? Even if you are a promise-keeper, how do you know 100% for a FACT you will be able to keep that promise? Like, what if you die first? I'm for cereal. It irks me to even say it, really. I make pinky promises ONLY, because they are the only kind of promises that mean anything to me. A PINKY PROMISE CANNOT BE BROKEN. Don't ask me why - it just can't. Ask my kids. We take pinky promises very seriously. Well, we did anyway. I got a pinky promise from my youngest daughter in June that she would finally call me and we'd talk, but that hasn't happened. Honestly, I kind of didn't really hold my breath on that one to begin with. I could see the lack of promise in her eyes. It hurt, because, you know, it's a pinky promise. You'd have to be us to understand. But even still. What if I pinky promise that I'm going to be somewhere? 

"I pinky promise, I will be there before all the other parents so I can sit right in the front and watch you sing your solo performance!" Then you get into a car accident. I'm not trying to be Miss Negativity or Little Miss Worst Case Scenario, but point-in-fact, you don't know. I didn't pinky promise that I would be somewhere before all the other parents, but I was on my way to pick my kids up the second time I was in a major accident. When you are stopped at a red light and surrounded by traffic (left, front, right) and the person behind you seems completely oblivious to the hundreds of brake lights lit up in front of him, and he plows into the back of you right after making a last ditch effort to slam on his brakes when the DUH moment happens, which SO does NOT work, by the way, it isn't your fault that the back end of your minivan just flew up into the air and the front of it went careening under the Lexus SUV you were just admiring sitting nicely and prettily in front of you. I did make a promise I was picking up my kids and they were excited. When I called frantic and a little out of my mind because I'd just been hit by a man who barely spoke English driving a white utility van hauling a trailer full of white paint, which was now splattered in a very abstract pattern across the asphalt of State Road 436 in Casselberry, Florida, with the back of my minivan now looking slightly like a metal version of an accordion and a lump slowly, but surely, getting bigger on my forehead, the last thing I wanted to say was I'm not coming, mommy just got into a bad accident. BAM. I just broke a promise. Of course everyone survived. Of course they were glad I was alive. But I broke a promise. So I beg the question. Should we ever really make promises? Because really, are intentions good enough in today's society, or is the promise the only thing that matters?

That escalated quickly.

Also, how one day you can have a friend; the next day just "not." Like, they just aren't your friend. I don't understand how that works. How do you just not be friends with someone in a day? Were you really friends to begin with, then? Because if not, that was a whole lot of crap! Just sayin'!!

How can you have a thought one second and the next second it's just gone. As if some strange alien force just swooped in and entirely zapped your brain and you have idea what you were thinking, or saying, or why you walked into a room. It happens to me effortlessly. Honestly, it's quite annoying. When I joked around and said "I think I've finally got my brain cells down to a manageable number."... well, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

The worlds on fire but we're all smiling
Though it's all our fault
But life is short so we resort to laughing through it all

It's the battle within the good and the sin
With both sides standing strong
It's the permanent scars
How broken we are
It's the things that hurt us all

But isn't it beautiful
The way we fall apart
It's magical and tragic all the ways we break our hearts

So unpredictable
We're comfortably miserable
We think we're invincible 
Completely unbreakable
And maybe we are
Isn't it beautiful
The way we all fall apart

You're a liar but I'm a coward so I can't throw a stone
We're so imperfect but so worth it because we're not alone

It's the wars that we wage, the lives that we take
For better or for worse

It's the lion we cage, the love and the rage
That keeps us wanting more

But isn't it beautiful
The way we fall apart
It's magical and tragic all the ways we break our hearts

So unpredictable
We're comfortably miserable
We think we're invincible 
Completely unbreakable
And maybe we are
But isn't it beautiful
The way we all fall apart

The world is dark but all it takes
your love to spark
To set my heart on fire once again

But isn't it beautiful
The way we fall apart
Isn't it beautiful
oh, isn't it wonderful
The way we fall apart
It's magical and tragic all the ways we break our hearts

So unpredictable
We're comfortably miserable
We think we're invincible 
Completely unbreakable
And maybe we are
But isn't it beautiful
The way we all fall apart

Isn't it beautiful
The way we fall apart

Some things can be so tragic and beautiful at the same time.

I think way too much.

I have an internal battle of good and evil going on inside me all day and night.

NOW WHAT?! [-->AGGRAVATION<--]

I inspirationally realized that sometimes I feel like I'm back in high school again. I don't think inspirationally is actually a proper word or why inspirationally and high school would even be in the same sentence, but that's how it came out.

Some bugs freak me out, some bugs don't. Actually, that's a lie. I hate all bugs.

LMAO. I just thought of something. I was watching Family Guy, and in the episode, Peter and Bryan are in jail. They have bunk beds. Bryan is laying on the bottom bunk flipping through something to read and Peter is standing up talking. Peter suddenly says, "I got top bunk!" and he runs and launches himself onto the top bunk, and it falls and crushes Bryan. If you don't watch Family Guy, then you probably don't know that Bryan is a dog; in which case you would find none of the above funny at all, so in reality I probably just wasted like 2 minutes of my time typing out that one piece of the episode for nothing. Peace out.

I hate how I want to cry and just let it all out. Like now. RIGHT NOW. Cry, scream at the top of my FREAKING LUNGS from the highest rooftop in Central Florida. All the stuff that I have that just won't come out. Just act like Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted, because I can. Just yell at the sky and ask it why I have 12 days now to get a deposit to stay in an extended stay hotel so I'm not sleeping on the street on August 17th. Ask it why everything that is suddenly happening around me right now had to happen RIGHT NOW, and why I couldn't have just a little more time. Beg it for a miracle so I can get into a room, put that week's deposit down, and be able to breathe. Just breathe, relax, work my job, and know that I'll be able to pay for my weeks after that IF I CAN JUST GET IN AND STARTED! I CAN'T WORK FROM THE STREETS, SKY! I FINALLY HAVE A GOOD JOB AGAIN AND I NEED TO BE ABLE TO WORK ON MY LAPTOP WITH INTERNET TO DO IT! FROM A ROOM! DO YOU HEAR ME?! I. DON'T. WANT. TO. EVER. SLEEP. ON. THE. CONCRETE. AGAIN!

I'm done screaming and crying now.

My time is running out. Tick tock, tear drip, tick tock, tear drop.

Getting interrupted when you are texting is like getting interrupted when you've been trying to pee for 30 minutes, but you just haven't been able to get it out; and right when the flow starts, someone walks into the bathroom.Something happens to me when I see or hear other people cry; especially if I am close to them. My heart starts to tangibly ache, then it drops a little bit into my stomach. I want to take the tears away. Sometimes, I can't.Townhouse Multigrain Crackers are pimpin'. In two words: they bangarang!

I can't believe I actually just typed that, and while I'm extremely tempted to hit the backspace button however many times it takes to get to before the word pimpin', I'm just not. 

I have a very special talent. I have absolutely no trouble whatsoever losing my cell phone. All. The. Time.

I hate not knowing certain things. Thankfully, God knows all. I would hate to have that much memory. As a person suffering with bipolar disorder type 1, I would literally go insane if I knew everything. So I recant my previous statement. No I don't. I still hate not knowing certain things. Key word: Certain.

Yep, I did it again. I just thought of something and laughed out loud. I guess technically I should have put LOL so everyone would know I laughed. Disclaimer: I did not make that meme. I actually kind of feel sorry for the kid.

Anyway, my oldest son once asked me to make a Peter Pan costume for him, which naturally, I did, because I am the most awesome, creative, talented mom in the universe of whatever, and he had to wear it to school one day to get credit it in drama class. Not just in that class, his WHOLE DAY. AND he had to stay in Peter Pan character all day. OMG. I suddenly visualized him wearing the costume and chasing his shadow down the sidewalk during lunch or something; you know, like trying to catch it? Yeah. Ha! Good times, good times.

We live. We get sick. Sometimes it scares us. Sometimes we don't make it. Sometimes we have absolutely no idea how we are going to get through anything. But, ultimately God has everything under control.Good night sweetheart, well it's time to go, bum bum bum bum. Good night sweetheart, well it's time to go, bum bum bum bum. I hate to leave you, but I really must say; good night sweetheart, fart fart. 

Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum.

(There's a link in the upper left corner of the page for my fundrazr campaign, aptly title HELP ME START OVER, if you want to click on it up there or you'd like to help in any way get me out of crisis before the 17th, and such. Bipolar Sober Chick, signing out. That's a big 10-4.)