32 Weeks, 3 Days: No More Burgers Please – Weekend Depression, Anger, and Frustration – Scum of the Earth

32 Weeks, 3 Days.


August went fast.

The year sort of stretches and collapses. Sometimes it’s really slow. Sometimes it’s really fast.

Erase whiteboard. Throw up the new schedule. September looks busy.


And when it’s slow, it can get really slow. And when it’s sad it can get really sad. And when it’s mad, it can get madder.


It was a good busy week of pictures, delivery, meeting with the boss, and more.

The weekend was the one that destroyed me.

I celebrated not having to work on Saturday but had 0 plans. Not having plans or not being busy is really bad for me. Especially for the whole weekend.


First. Some emails.

Then… writing drama.


I’ve been working on the burger issue.

I don’t really want to eat another burger again. But I work this Saturday… at the burger and beers festival. And I still have one more burger to eat.

And after that, no more burgers for a long time except perhaps The Friendly’s dirty flat-top burger and the occasional In N Out. But that’s it.


Tuesday was that.

I worked on the burger issue in Little Italy at Davanti Enoteca. I have a friend that works there. He hooked it up. I told him I was sick of burgers, he hit me up with delicious polenta with ragu. Also, a couple of free beers. It was great.

And after that, I had more work. Not burger related, just more work. Which happened to be at a bar. One of my favorite things to do, take pictures of live music with a flash, annoying the musicians but getting amazing results. Can’t wait for that cover to come out…

And the burger cover as well!

This is what that looks like:

Well…

That’s the screencap of the polenta + ragu and some of Davanti’s burger.

There are 200+ pictures of other burgers in that same album. One of them is going to be the cover.

Art director told me she is having difficulty choosing which one… Good. That’s her job. My job is shooting.

I would not be able at all to decide which one I want for the cover. Or what font to use. Or the color scheme.

Yep.

Not a designer.

I just take pictures.


A lot of burger pictures still to come and it will all go on my Tijuana Adventure Instagram.


Next week’s cover is my picture. And the week after that. And the week after that!

So three in a row, then not sure what’s next, but probably another one by me…


Wednesday was good as well. I met with the boss on sales to talk about my project. It will keep going and I have work to do on that. Then I put my photographer hat and took more pictures of burgers.

(Not really a photographer hat, I don’t wear hats).

After that, delivery boy hat on and back to Tijuana to delivery.

(Again, I do not wear hats, I mean, not on the literal sense. I wear many hats in a figurative way).


Thursday was more delivery!

And like always, I end up in the bowling alley.

This time, a friend from Minnesota joined me.

First game: 127 vs 103.

(My results first, though it’s not really a competition)

Second game: 151 vs 131

Third game: 148 vs 85.

A great average for me. An ok average for False Soap after not bowling for a while and his first time bowling in Tijuana.

I wanted to bowl more but he wanted to leave, more because he didn’t have more money to bowl than the desire to do so. And my desire was stronger than leaving a broke friend behind. He even said “you bowl, I’ll watch.” Fuck that. I paid for the second round of bowling (and the beers).

Fourth game: 102 vs 145.

Fifth game: 184 vs 115.

Sixth game: 137 vs 86.

What a horrible start… I regretted paying for more games… but then game 2 (or fifth game) OOOOOEEEE

I think 184 has been my highest since I started playing again. My memory says my highest is 188 but my memory is flimsy and I don’t count it as legit.

For now, 184 is my best score.

I’ll try to beat that next Thursday. Cuz I go bowling every Thursday.


After that, finish my delivery route. False Soap joined me as I went from 7-Eleven to 7-Eleven and finally to downtown to deliver around the bars and coffee shops.

Some more beers.

Then he joined me for videogames all night.

It was a good, productive, and fun Tuesday.

It was a good, productive, and fun Wednesday.

It was a good, productive, and bowling fun Thursday.


Had nothing for Friday (I usually have nothing on Fridays).

Had nothing for Saturday (I usually have work on Saturdays).

Had nothing on Sunday.

Had nothing on Monday since it was a long weekend.

And I left it like that…


Thought about driving far, but my car is in not the best conditions to take a road trip.


Then, she hit me up.

She wanted to see me.

It’s been a long time.

And it has.

A bit over half the year…


To understand the following, you have to go back to one of the first blogs this year.

A painful one.

A very sad one.

When I felt the loneliest.

I still feel that lonely.

And thinking about it makes me sad.

And now, more than anything, it makes me mad.


It’s this blog post.

I described it as if my best friend was fucking my girlfriend. Except they were neither my best friend or girlfriend.


I knew it was going to end up wrong. I ended up cutting both of them from my life completely. I didn’t know what was going to happen with them. I wished them the best, but deep down, I knew that was not possible and I knew it was going to be disastrous.

In my mind, the dude was going to cheat, owe the rent money, emotionally and mentally manipulate her. And she was going to be smart about it and the dude was going to eat shit.

That’s sort of how it happened.

Except the dude was not only a shit friend to me… he is the lowest piece of human scum.

Not only was it disastrous, but it also went beyond my nightmares. Yes, he owes her rent. But beyond that, he abused her, choked her, almost killed her, and raped her.

Just typing that formed a knot on my throat and anger started flowing.

I have never felt the desire to beat someone up since like seventh grade. It was all that was in my mind.

And guilt.

Guilt that I was the one that introduced them.

The one that when I knew it was going wrong, and just fucked off.

I warned that fucking bastard. I told him not to go through with this shit. Fucker not only did not listen to me and became shit tier, but he also went beyond that and became the scum of the earth tier.

The fucker deserves to be in jail or worse. Karma will do its thing.


I was avoiding her. Thinking they still had a connection and/or drama. I didn’t want to be part of it.

But she kept messaging me that she wanted to hang out.

So we finally did on Friday.


Nothing of the above was mentioned.

The conversation never came up. I didn’t bring it up. She didn’t bring it up. We hung out as if we never really separated. We even went to a birthday party together. Though it was in the back of my mind and whenever she grabbed her phone I thought to myself “probably still texting this fucker.”

That birthday party…

It felt more like a wedding or XV años than a simple birthday party. She looked ravishing.

It was in general great times. And I still like her. Like like her.

But I felt great sadness. I had no idea of anything that I just mentioned above. I just knew that being around her cause me great sadness.


The following day is when I found about all that shit.

She wanted to hang out again. I told her I didn’t want too because it just made me sad to see her.

And then it all unraveled.


So much anger and frustration of not being able to do nothing, much less go back in time. Should’ve would’ve could’ve.

Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve.

Those are the ones that the brain loves to fuck you with.

Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve.

Didn’t.

And shit like that changes the course of life.


I drowned my frustration and my sorrow.

Again.

I had no plans for the weekend.

I drank. And drank. And drank. And played Stardew Valley. Escaping reality.

No work.

Just drank.

Drank.

Drank.


Barely ate.

Just kept drinking beer.

And more beer.


Ordered pizza.

That’s what I had for dinner on Saturday.

That’s what I had for breakfast on Sunday.

And kept drinking.

All-day.

Passing out whenever too drunk.

Waking up to drinking again.

Drinking.

Drinking.

And suddenly, it’s almost 6 a.m. Had been drinking since Saturday. Passing out at interims and waking up to drinking more.

And I couldn’t feel anything.

Drowned all successfully.

Couldn’t feel a thing.

Not even my own drunkness.

Or my tiredness.

Drowned.


That felt like rock bottom.

Which is not nearly your standard rock bottom.

But it felt like rock bottom.


No more drinking.

Or so I say I will try.

Calling it sober September.

That’s what I thought as I passed out during dawn. I should not drink all of September.


I lasted 12 hours until I had a beer (and it was for breakfast). Monday of nothing because of another day off. Since I passed out at dawn, I woke up past noon and I wanted breakfast. Couldn’t find any food rummaging around town… so I ended up having a beer and a sandwich for breakfast.

Then finished all the beers in the fridge (there weren’t many left).

And now… I say I won’t drink anymore.

But it’s tempting when you are so lonely and life… well… just fucking sucks.

Drowning sorrows feels good.

Sober September.

Or the attempt to be so… here we go. At least SLOW DOWN heavily.

Today is Tap Tuesday. And it feels so tempting to “have one more beer” before I quit.

Then I work on Saturday on a beer and burgers festival…

And this same Wednesday I’m going to a brewery…

Fuck…

It sounds tougher when you lay down how long September is and how much free time for drinking I have…


And…

Great.

Just set up the next burger photo shoot… at a brewery. Here’s to not drinking!


This is why I requested to see my therapist earlier than my appointment. I see her tomorrow morning.

 

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