Emotional Dump

Hairdini, not a fashion forward hat

Pigs flew, and Kiki was accepted to an international charter school in LA that I submitted an application to on a whim. Her lottery ticket held the lowest weight because we don't even live in LAUSD. The unexpectedness of it has me stressed since I need to make a choice within the next couple weeks. I don't think this is the time for us to move, so her winning a school lottery is actually bittersweet.
We have a good network here in Sac Town, but there are times I have to hang out with someone just because our kids go to school together. Getting on with someone solely hinging on our kids being the same age is kind of sad, and can lead to boring as fuck conversations. The other night I had a dinner playdate with a woman and her kids, and I sat at the table trying to pull conversation from her like a clown yanking a string of handkerchiefs. If we knew each other better we could have happily read our phones instead of trying to maintain conversation.

I burnt out on a different school friend because she turned out to be Eeyore, and every time we hung out I listened to her complain for two hours, then get home and be drained, and feel completely miserable. I told my husband, "I can't hang out with Cranky anymore, I end up with a two day bad-mood hangover."
I like being around positive, happy, go-getters. That doesn't mean there isn't room for griping or pointing out room for improvement, it just means there needs to be an overall disposition that life is good. The last time I hung out with Cranky she told me she went on meds because she felt terrible all the time. I was so happy for her. Right as I was about to sing "My Heart Will Go On" to her, she lets me know she's privy to the fact that she's miserable. I didn't know if she realized she sat under a personal rain cloud. Now we can maintain our casual relationship, sun bathing in lawn chairs where we have to occasionally get up to escort a kid to the bathroom.

I read a lot about psychics because I think it's interesting stuff. There is a type of psychic called an Empath, and they have the ability to pick up on other people's emotions. Some believe everyone has this skill, to a degree. An unrecognized empath psychic can lead a troubled life because they don't know to distinguish their own emotions from people around them. Often times they are diagnosed bipolar because of the emotional roller coaster they ride.
I'm going to see a psychic this weekend, to talk to her about this LA opportunity. Right when I saw the email that Kiki got into the school, my first reaction was, "This is a sign! We need to move to LA." I love LA, but I'd love LA even more if I moved back there after having made a fortune. It's one of those expensive-as-fuck cities, where if your not rich enough to afford high rents in prime locations, then A LOT of time is spent driving in the car. Like HOURS, every day.
I'm reminded of The Alchemist, and how the shepherd's fortune was not where he was expecting, Egypt, but his journey to Egypt was how he found out the treasure was under the tree where he started. He needed to keep moving to find this out.

Big decisions require big eating. Maybe chewing helps me think. I've been chowing nonstop since presented with the opportunity. It could be PMS; I got so choked up this morning watching a mom whisper into her daughters ear, "I love you so much," I had to fight back tears. All the food, decision making stress, and possible PMS is reeking havoc on my skin.
The psychic might get a look at me and say, "You should have spent this money on a facial," but I will have some comfort knowing I got to unload these feelings on to someone else. Someone who knows not take it home with her. Sort of like and emotional dump.