I am a worrywort by nature.  Obviously, I must be: I run a blog where I voice my worries to the public daily weekly when was the last time I updated this thing on a regular basis? quite frequently.  But omg, ya’ll.  I have been LOSING IT lately.  It’s freaking out those close to me.  I’ve been worrying about everything and as soon as I say, “What do you mean?  I’m fine!” I burst into tears on the spot.  The other morning I woke up and cried to that little kid on Britain’s Got Talent singing Michael Jackson.

So the point is, I need a big break.  I haven’t had a big break for two years when my mama took me to Florida for 3.5 days.  This time, I’m going away for ten.  Ten!  Ten days!  When I tell Europeans that, they say, “Only ten?” because Europeans are a bunch of lazy workers who like to take ridiculous lengths of time off from responsibility.  And God help me, I’m becoming like one of them, and I love it to pieces.

(Ten days!)

I’ve even decided to begin this vacation early, having finished my lectures yesterday and internship today.  For the next two weeks, I am going to stop worrying.  Yes, I don’t have a place to live for long when I get back, and the summer internships were meant to call me this week for an interview but haven’t so I’m still not sure which side of the city I’ll be working in, and yes I’m dirt poor and haven’t earned a buck in ages, and when the end of the summer comes I’m going to combust–but I’m not going to think about any of that.  I am going to go get the hell burned out of my skin in the hot, hot sun and take some pictures for your enjoyment.

Oh, and probably Twitter from the pool.

Hey here’s an original thought: money is the root of all evil.  It fills me with all of the deadly sins.  Greed for all the money in the world.  Pride for when I get a random windfall and stare at my bank account like it’s a mirror.  Envy for those who have money and I want it.  Lust for anyone who will spend any money on me.  Sloth for sitting around all day wondering why I can’t just get money for sitting around all day.  Gluttony for a chocolate Kimberley, but no money to buy some.

At the moment I feel WRATH.  WRATH FOR BILLS.  I had to reorder contact lenses (the daily ones, which cost twice as much and last half as long, because my eyes are too wretched to stand the fortnightly ones, and I thought, hmm, I should just get LASIK, but mother tells me it’s considered cosmetic, and I thought what!  but I don’t want it to look pretty, I want it to stop destroying my corneas with contacts!  and she said, well that’s what glasses are for, and I said, okay, number one, glasses do not provide peripheral vision which is why I’m always spilling things with them on, and number two, insurance also did not cover my glasses last summer, I paid for those, so are glasses now cosmetic too?  because if so, OMG, and if not, where my money.)

(ANYWAY.)

I had to reorder contact lenses, and I paid the extra $16 or so for the speedy international shipping, and that was a few weeks ago.  And so lately I’m crying at the sight of my bank account, they’re quite expensive and so is Ireland, and today I get a bill from the shipping company charging me extra VAT for shipping internationally.  Even though they didn’t do that for the last lens shipment I had sent here.  Even though I already paid shipping and handling, EXTRA IN FACT, and why is this coming after the fact?  And why does it have to be so fucking much?  It’s not like I’m shipping a bottle of whiskey to the States, I’m just providing myself with my very expensive but medically prescribed vision correcters and this is absolutely absurd.

This is purely a rant, I know, I know.  But it’s also the first time I’m really considering doing temp work while I’m here.  It seems to make the most sense.  I’m writing here to remind myself to go to the BC house next week and ask them if they think that’s a plausible solution.  I just can’t stand being so close to the edge of broke anymore.  I’d like to be able to provide for myself while I’m here rather than go crying to mummy and daddy every time my account drops below a certain figure.  I’m a big girl and for goodness sake, I’d like to enjoy a dinner every so often without playing the conversion game in the back of my head.  I’d like to be able to give gifts.

I’m also wondering if the magazine I’m interning for is going to pay me at the end of this?  They pay 15 cents per word, and I balked at that until I just did the math for how many words I’ve written, and WHOA THAT ADDS UP.  I could seriously do with that chunk of change, and I don’t know why they’d treat me different from other random contributors, so.  I’m really crossing my fingers on that.

Didn’t feel like going for writerly quality today.  Just needed to think out loud.

I was NOT in a good mood this morning and could have told you a million reasons why.  I’m not the type to ever actually be affected by a Postsecret beyond “oh that’s weird” or “oh that’s sweet” but this time, I said “oh that’s right.”