Notes From A Walkman Junkie: Take Your Tiny Weird Things And Go.
My orchid (pictured) is in full bloom. My bunny (not pictured; too angry) is angry. I am not sleeping. I am not writing. I am not packing. I am panicking. I am moving. Allow me to explain why these facts are all related and why all facts about me are insults. This move has been a long time coming for me as I have always considered my current place of residence to be very temporary, which is why I only furnished it with one bed, one couch, and one tiny television in order to allow for a swift and relatively easy relocation, most likely after one or two years (five years).
The panicking is mainly due to my pathological fear of change and speaking; two fears that have greatly deterred me from talking to the managers of the building in the office downstairs about possibly moving somewhere else (there is far too much discussing and grinning and looking and little pants and creepy hair and aqua blue involved; this is also the reason why I only check my mail box next to the office about once a month at the convenient and not weird at all hour of two forty-eight in the morning).
Now, it goes without saying that I cannot possibly sleep with all of these thoughts of moving and conversing with the office people and the stacks of mail piling up in my place because there is far too much to go through all at once and it just keeps coming so I have to take an anxious fight nap in the middle of the day instead because I am not getting any sleep at night when it is prime time to check the mail and not talk to people and I cannot possibly write anything right now and add more papers to the mix because I still write on actual paper when I clearly have other things that I should be doing like packing and shredding papers which reminds me I really need to pick up my giant shredder at my mom’s house to stop all that mail from piling up because I can not even begin to read it all so I don’t read any of it and I am far too busy dealing with all of the unwanted magazines and catalogs that are continuously delivered to my place in great heaping piles that I must immediately put into the recycling bin near the office in the wee hours of the night after the office is closed, but before the elderly residence gather for their multiple daily meetings where they talk about what time it is and how cold they are.
I am also fully convinced that my lack of sleep and stress over all things in paper form could be contributing to my strange and fragile emotional state lately, causing me to exhibit extreme weirdo behavior and perhaps tear up over an American Express commercial because that song in the background is so goddamn beautiful. Not to mention, the little sleep that I am able to nab these days seems to be riddled with unsettling dreams where I am doing things like wearing my red sequin prom dress and assisting my friend from high school in the mass production of fancy meatballs while many animals are released into my apartment along with several people who want me to make them some lunch.
It has, however, been brought to my attention by others that I may have the tendency to overreact just a touch in certain situations (particularly when I am expected to utilize normal life skills like reading mail and having conversations) and I am quite confident that once this move is behind me, I will be back to my slightly less ridiculously neurotic obsessive self and will stop constantly weeping, sneezing (unless allergy related) and hiding. In short, It is time to make like a tree and pack up my orchid and bunny and casually explain why none of my appliances work and leave.
I am attaching “Movin’ Right Along” as performed in The Muppet Movie for your enjoyment and in celebration of a frog (bunny) and a bear (an orchid) hitting the road. Dugga Dum-Dugga Dum.