that's not vertigo, it's just my boobs

this move, this job, this life thing is having an unusual effect on me.
i’ve worn the same perfume for six years. .. . but suddenly i need to branch out, and try/ buy a handful of other ones. . . none of which seem to smell any good on me once i get them home, but i guess they make for adequate girly decoration in my room. and yes, for a while i worried about how i stack up compared to my current roommates. my one shampoo brand seems paltry to the four brands that don my roommate’s bathroom collection.

i remember my first month when i felt the need to get bedroom furniture, dressers, night stands, armoires. after realizing that i wouldn’t be here for too long, i settled with my fallback college crate racks. now i’m glad that i won’t have much to move when it comes time.

my appetite has been all over the map. famished for days, or not hungry for days at a time, or even better. . . currently everything i eat tastes good for about six bites, then quickly it turns into the most disgusting thing i’ve ever tasted.

and let’s not forget the first month and a half where no matter what i ate i ended up with a horrible bout of the loosies. . . i’m glad that phase has passed.

the subject matter of my dreams is rather obvious. i toggle between overly plush and indulgently stress relieving dreams, or a release of aggression that can only be matched by a summer block buster. i’ve played with puppies for hours on end, and more recently baby tiger and jaguar cubs- those little tikes have some teeth on them, but they are small, so if they rough house a little too much, you can still just swat them away, or so says the physical laws of my dream state.

i spent several hours both verbally and physically beating up a fictitious coworker. what’s great about an argument within a dream is that you can play out EVERY scenario, kind of like it’s on a video loop, but you get to keep trying out different endings. you can even go back and revisit your favorite ones. what’s bad about an argument in a dream is you wake up having spent hours steeped in extreme aggression right before going to work. . . . it’s a great set up for a day.

or you can make an unexpected trip to the great wall in china. . . . but somehow get lost in a cavern within a gift shop. . . and never get to walk along the outside of the wall. yeah, dreams can do that to you.

i’d like to say that through it all i’ve been able to keep an optimistic, positive outlook. . . but that would be a GI-NORMOUS FUCKING LIE!

and that little thing inside my head that tells me when i should use my inside voice. . . yeah, that’s dead. . . or at least in a vegetative state.

then i noticed the vertigo and thought i was in real trouble. my ability to perceive distance was wavering, especially while walking down stairs. awesome. . . maybe i’m headed for a stroke. as fitting as my dying in this theatre college building would be. . . and as great a point it would prove. . . . it’s really not what i want. so, a couple days of vertigo on the stairs, and a couple without. . . and then another day with. . . wtf?

why do i feel unsure of my feet on the stairs? why am i having an issue seeing the stairs? time for some research.

didn’t have to go too far. on a day when i had trouble with the stairs i changed my view point a bit by slouching. suddenly no problem. proper posture. . . problem, slouching. . no problem. dammit i’m an idiot.

along with my desire to find a new perfume, i’d been trying out a few different bra models. some of them pushed my boobs out a little further then i’m used to, rather annoying.

my depth perception is just fine, and i don’t have vertigo. . . my boobs were getting in the way. christ on a pogo stick. . . . honesty. . . .

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