Viva La Persistance

SO! I've managed to last a week in the fucking suburban wasteland that is Northbrook, IL. Frankly, I don't know how people do it. I mean, I did it at one point but A. I was miserable and B. I was high all the time. Also when I was in high school I mostly lived at my ex's place in Wheeling. It's like 10 minutes drive away but it's way more of a working class area, which makes a big difference. To me anyway, oi oi. So anyway, I've calmed down a lot. My sleeping is pretty much back to normal. I think a big part of it is a result of me having direct access to smokes again. I feel like such a tool having to ask my mom for money but if I don't smoke I'm fucking twitchy and nervy and irritable. Or at least more so than usual.  The initial feeling of indignity at having to live here is... improving, however slowly. A bunch of after school programs are hiring and that's where my job experience is, so my employment prospects are a lot better than I had expected. I should be out of here in no time. I spent the whole weekend in the city so I've been able to shake this whole "stuck in my parents basement" funk. AND I got my bike back from down there, so that's bolstered my spirits significantly as well. I missed that fuckin bike so much when I was in NYC, it's kinda ridiculous. On that note, SWEET GENTLE LORD SATAN does riding bikes in this town suck. Tonight I decided to go for a pleasant bike ride, and goddamn. The first problem, is that there is nothing to ride your bike TO. I got to Walgreen's and bought a pack of smokes and was sorta like...umm...now what? So I decided to ride around the side streets, just for fun likes. This is where our second problem arises: no one in Northbrook goes out part like 9:30 pm so there are NO GODDAMN STREETLIGHTS. It's totally not safe to ride in the street and the sidewalks are basically in pitch darkness. It's pretty nerve-wracking when you have no idea what kind of epic pot holes or felled branches lay ahead of you. Seriously, I felt more comfortable riding in the street in Chicago with cars wizzing past me, while steering with one hand and smoking a cigarette with the other. Drunk. Alright, in summation I am not quite as miserable as I was in my last post. Or at least I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's more like the flickering last gasps of a flashlight when the batteries are about to die but hey, it's something.

Love and rockets,

Bebe