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Not sure how my twisted little brain pulled that out of the depths.  Must be what I get for eating cheesy poofs at 10am.  Rots your brain and junk.

But I did go to band camp, once.  I was in the flag corps.  My boyfriend played clarinet.  That right there should tell you something.  Anyway, it was hot and miserable and I hated every minute of it.  The only thing good about being in the flag corps was that I earned PE credit.  Of course that came back to bite me in the ass when I was a senior and trying to graduate a semester early.  Nothing like PE your senior year of high school.

I did graduate from high school early.  I wanted to get married.  I was in lurve.  I graduated in December, started working full time, and got married in March – 6 days after I turned 18.  Huge mistake.  I thought I knew everything when in reality it was my mother who knew everything and I knew nothing.  But I didn’t listen.  I was 18 and bullet proof.  Boy did I learn.

I have no idea where this is going kids.

My brain feels odd.  There’s stuff I should be doing, and I’ve been doing some of it.  There’s stuff I *really* should be doing that I’m avoiding.  T is here getting setup for his class – has been all fucking morning.  It’s totally cramping my style.  I feel like I really shouldn’t go out and smoke and like I can’t have the radio turned on and like I really shouldn’t be inhaling a large bag of cheesy poofs.

But I have my magic light on and a special sweater and a big ol’ glass of tea so really I should be fine shortly.  Or not.  Who knows.  More importantly, no one cares.  It’s all good.

I think I’m just really nervous about the eye stuff this afternoon.  I just can’t even wrap my brain around the possibility of losing my sight.  What the fuck would I do if I couldn’t see?  I realize that glaucoma is treatable and that IF this is what it is they’ve caught it pretty early.  Still, to be blind?  When everything I do relies on having good eye sight?  No, broken brain is completely incapable of getting around that notion.  It just can’t happen.  It must not happen.  I say again, IT CANNOT HAPPEN.

Quick, someone needs to slip a horse tranquilizer in my cheesy poofs…

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