Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 2 of 2)

November 10

November 10

Woke up this morning in the all-too-familiar groggy, hazy cloud that forms after a night of blazing and binging. I had major regret because of the bloat. I also ate so much candy last night that my tongue was basically numb from the sour acid. Fuck.

Work was boring. Once again, I didn't do much. Big Bird was out of our office (read: cage) for long periods of time, which is always a bonus. Near the end of the day, I realized that I had totally spaced on telling Big Bird that I was going to be coming in late tomorrow. Come to think of it, I haven't even mentioned this in a journal entry yet. It's a bit of a long story. Kind of. I'll make it quick.

Back in the spring, Dad found out that our old neighbor, Richard Jones, does the finances for the C.E.O. of Amphitheatre Entertainment, Edward Tilton. Knowing how much I loathe The Clubhouse, Dad put me in touch with Richard, who put me in touch with Edward to discuss potential career opportunities. After emailing with Edward's assistant for the last three months, we finally arranged a one-on-one meeting – for tomorrow morning.

Anyway, I totally forgot to tell Big Bird. Not about the meeting itself – obviously – but about my timing. When I sprung it on her at 4:30 p.m. today, she was not happy.

"Is it for another foot appointment?" Big Bird asked.

"No," I said. "It's for something else."

Big Bird didn't press me further, but I was definitely expecting her to.

I left work right after 5 p.m. Despite telling Big Bird multiple times that I had to leave, she kept squawking about the membership survey for an extra fifteen minutes.

Once at the Witch Cave, I had just enough time to drop off my bag and wash my hands before I ran back outside and met Mom, Dad, and Phillip for dinner at Smith. The evening consisted of two conversations:

1. The State of Casa Z

2. The State of the Union

I felt so horrible while listening to what my parents are going through with this whole house fire disaster. Dad says it's worse than Mom thinks. Mom says the opposite. In other words, I don't know how bad the situation actually is. Dad says the estimate is looking like $200,000 to $300,000 worth of damage.

This whole fire thing worries me. For a couple of reasons, really. Obviously, stress is a big part of it. My parents live very hectic lives as it is, and are usually under immense stress with their companies and lack of business coming in. This is really the last thing they needed on their plates.

I'm not worried about the fire from a financial aspect. Insurance will cover the damage and recovery, so I don't think my parents will be much out of pocket. Except for our frozen food being thrown out, which Mom seems to be more distraught over than anything else.

The other reason the fire worries me is that it's a big strain on my parents' relationship. Mom and Dad already fight so much. Just hearing them discuss everything about the fire at dinner and hearing Dad get riled up about it scares me into thinking that it could be a real divide for the two of them. All I can say is that I hope things get better – fast.

We went to see Matilda the Musical after dinner, which was really great. Not my favorite production, but definitely a good show with some genuinely funny parts. Damn those children with all their talent.

After Matilda, we all walked back to my apartment together. Mom saw a drag show happening through the windows of O'Grady's on Church Street, and she wanted to watch so badly. Note to self: take Mom to a drag show with Dan and Connor before I move out of the Witch Cave.

Following our goodbyes at the car, I went upstairs to my apartment and blazed. I had a similar experience to last night's. Really happy and giddy at first, and then I got into a weird train of thought – including thoughts about the future of Donald Trump's America – which made me very panicky. After that, things returned to normal.

I'm not sure if I like this weed. Can my trippy high be blamed on the strand, or is this just what it's always going to be like now? At least it's not anything like that paralyzing high I experienced when I smoked what Phillip had. That was terrifying.

I'm going to blaze once more, then go to bed. It's 12:30 a.m.

Goodnight xo