Let's Be Honest, Shall We?

I have NO idea if my errant mood is a result smoking/not smoking followed by more smoking/not smoking, but I've just about had e-fucking-nough.

I just can't listen to people. Their ignorant platforms genuinely hurt my soul. It's like everyone's just being loud, arrogant, and opinionated just to hear the sound of their own voices.

I thought I had weeded out my Facebook so that it was safe to go on, but the people complaining about the bike lanes that have gone in to our little downtown core... I just don't get it. It hurts my heart and mind to see people's dark side like this.

I have to go clean my soul.

Same side of a different coin: It appears I'm having some issues living with a boyfriend/roommate in a small, overheated one bedroom apartment (sans silverfish). It appears that I have moments of fierce independence and become absolutely incensed when his routine fucks up mine (and I'm too polite or agreeable to assert my own prior to the mighty clash). I mean, I think a lot of it is the smoking, tbh.

I watched an older woman getting into her car the other day and, get this, I saw the day I would be a single, invisible to the mainstream, grandmother.

It looked so peaceful. 

I mean, I don't know...

Cartoon me is back. Fun!

Sometimes being alone, without a full time relationship that is, seems pretty inviting; being one of those women, mature of-a-certain-age women that are just good with being single for probably, most likely, the rest of their lives just doesn't seem that bad.

Obviously I want friends, close friends, community, and ... lovers. But maybe I would prefer to live on my own.

Don't get me wrong, everything here with the Greek is great, but I feel as though I've lost some level of autonomy. In the words of people who's words make my skin crawl, me no likey.

Love can inspire romantic illusions that are just so captivating and delicious. They beg to be devoured. And perhaps today, I feel... full. Maybe even a little stuffed?

Now, I don't know about that...

Oh. And, the tickets to Italy are booked. We're going to Italy.

I feel a "fuck me" is in order

Other things I've been a little glutenous about, Jordan Peterson.  Like many other sensible people in the world (or North America), I've become a little obsessed with the guy. He's dangerously almost perfect.

I've never been one to engage with social politics, because I just don't want to donate my time and mental real estate to people who appear to be stuck on a path that is, well, beneath me. I figure, they'll either catch up or live out their lives in a semi-miserable dysfunction that, in the end, they were comforted by.

I did JP's personality assessment, I scored low on compassion which then sums up my above statement pretty succinctly. BUT, when the clamouring intellectually and emotionally under evolved people start freaking the fuck out at each other, panicking and asserting, suddenly stepping on each other's heads to get out of the hole that was in part dug for them and that they then dug deeper, the affects of their actions start oozing over onto my side of fence. Now, I've created a very nice garden for myself and when I start to see that it's in threat of being overrun by mass hysteria disguised as left/right political correctness - the road to hell is paved with good intentions - bullshit.... Well, now I gotta get involved.

The Lord of the Flies kids are getting outta hand and somebody needs some grownups to come in and make some sense of this before the kids choose a volatile leader that promises order but provides or promotes, I don't know, genocide and,  because the tribes can't get along, a let the strong survive mentality.

Having said that, this really only results in me reading, reading, and more reading - and probably, at some point, stirring a pot somewhere. Not really my cup of tea, but neither is letting something that seems dangerous to my children's world, grow and evolve.

Don't fuck with my kid's shit. And DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE!

So, yeah, passive, compasstionaly lazy me says, "we'll see where that goes."

Gentle, gentle, gentle

The period train is slowing down these days. I've approached that station. However, my state as of these last few days would suggest that this missing period of mine is right around the corner. So emotional. Sheesh.

I'm here, living with the Greek, and sometimes it's like waking up from a bout of amnesia, looking around me and saying, "What the fuck? This isn't my life."

And last night, when I was despondent because a) I don't recognize my life and 2) I didn't prioritize sculpting  when I really wanted to start a new project, he asked why - he probed even.

I'm feeling out of sorts, living in someone else's home - no matter how you slice that, it takes some getting used to - and I don't have my own flow. I feel a bit at the mercy of his lifestyle. And it's not that he makes it that way, it's just the natural results of moving into someone else's home/life. It's weird.

And so I was awkward - didn't want to turn the TV on in my boredom (because he is one of those that "rightly so" hates it), which I would have normally done, didn't have a book to read, didn't start the project I wanted to but it was too late now, didn't have a fucking thing to do, didn't want to write or blog, didn't want to surf and endlessly scroll the fucking internet....

So I sat there, despondent. Then he put a blanket on me when I didn't ask for it and said, in that cute voice, "look at you, you're so lazy..." to which I responded (rightly so), "are you fucking kidding me?"

I'm not LAZY, fucker. I'm LOST. STRANDED. AND LOOKING FOR DIRECTION. I was fucking thinking.

Ugh.

Anyways.

After wistfully averting my view (which was, from my prone position on the couch, the ceiling), by resting my chin on the couch and staring out the window, followed by a ladened sigh, he asked, "What's wrong?"

AND I really tried to sell the "nothing" as if there was really nothing wrong, because nothing was wrong, I was just out of sorts.

But he did that thing where he is curious and probed and asked questions and we talked in the way that I always make people talk. In that way that no other partner has done with me.

And the days before, we had spent away on a tug boat B&B and had dinner with other guests and chatted with folks and walked in forests, played mini golf - and it was lovely. All of it was lovely.

And then tears well up around my eyes as I recall this feeling that I keep having, which is:

This wasn't supposed to last, but I keep falling more in love with him. This keeps working, so much so that I imagine a home that we share. I imagine the symmetry that we build, and it's beautiful.

And then I think, "but this is exhausting... how long can I keep this up?"

I don't know what this is. I suspect I'll find out one day. It very well might be joy and not knowing how to let it be a normal thing. Instead, it feels like a thing thing that requires thought and attention and a clear divergence from my past life which was struggle, struggle, struggle.

Also, it has something to do with this amnesia - waking up, seeing my new self, and then thinking about parts of the old me that got left behind - I miss those pieces. I think.

Time to go to work now - to that tech job that I would have only dreamt of having, that tech job where I'm pretty sure I'm doing some good stuff - time to go live my best life. Oh, and there it is, what's exhausting is clinging to this constant wonderment of, how the fuck did I get here? 

Well, I can tell you this FOR SURE, I worked very hard to get here. I just never anticipated it working so well in return.

This... this only proves out the rest of the journey.