What The Fuck Ever

I go through a weird run of emotions or thoughts when I'm away from home. This odd isolation feeling where I panic every so slightly that I am not at home - so far away from my core - and that I'm too naked out here.

Then I might relax and be totally cool with it all

And then I'll be sad that I'm alone and reflect at how often I really am alone even when I am home.

I think it just shows how much time I have on my hands? And that perhaps I have unlearned how to be not doing and having nothing to do. It's hard to have nothing to do. Truly, kids were such a blessing, there was never such an opportunity to over-reflect when you had kids, they always pulled you from that incessant and luscious lament by falling down and crying, wailing for food, loving you.

Now, I just have all this time and it has a powerful echo.

I'd like to get rid of this pattern, I'd like to clean it up and away. I'd like to be void of concern over things that don't concern me - you know?

I set a reminder in my phone:

Help me filter out patterns that do not contribute to the health of my mind and the happiness of my spirit and soul. 

This is a request to any or all the energies in the universe that point to good. That's my prayer.


I would like to swim out of this like a smooth finish to a dive.

But I don't think I can help that process if I'm resisting and fighting these thoughts and feelings as if they simply don't exist.

I think perhaps I have to allow them to come rushing in, like kids after playing outside. Small kids that were arguing over how to set up their tree fort and now their telling you all about the small injustices they found in one another - he said, she said - and perhaps I can at least just listen without being sucked into the vortex of it, listen as a mediator perhaps. Or, just a witness to it.

Either way, I'll just let them mill, swarm, cavort around me, listen to them, have some empathy but not to a fault. At the very least, I'll let them in instead of locking them out, making monsters of them banging on my doors to come in; little tyrants yammering for attention and threatening to beat me to a pulp.

the tyrants

Uh, Can I Get a Hand Here Guys?

A lingering moroseness has returned, I'm not sure what it's about. I'm trying, maybe? to just be with it. Perhaps I'm not and I'm just pushing it away and that's why it's persisting. Did I lose focus? I don't know.

I find I am disconnected somewhat to my feelings of love in my relationship, as if it's an exercise of stacking things on a very high shelf and my arm is dead tired from lifting. The thought of putting one more thing on that high shelf is utterly exhausting. I just look at it and think, am I not done yet? Ugh.

I have no room in my body, no space, it's full of work, peoples needs, my perception of peoples needs, how to declutter  my immediate future, how to make sure peoples needs are met, and how to be fair.

I have my sister's daughter and it weighs on me. She should be with her family, her mom (or dad), but my sister is a blistering hotbed of emotional infection. I was thinking this morning about how I can't be around her - she can't have a conversation, as if she no longer knows how, she just fucking rambles  nearly incoherently from one subject to the next. She doesn't talk with you, she talks at you and when you tell her to stop - because eventually you must, it feels like an assault that you can't put your finger on - she gets indignant that she's not allowed to express herself. Everyone else can but her. So she tries to spit guilt at you, guilt that you know, because you live in the real world, has nothing to do with you - but still, her spit is on you and it's gross.

Probably the last time I had a sane, normal conversation with her was when she was pregnant with the daughter I now have. To her credit, she never touched a drop of booze or drugs during her pregnancies. That was 12 years ago now.

We're certain she's been smoking crack, certain because she has admitted to it. Somehow, she manages to not fall into the face sore, street zombie crack user life. She manages to keep up appearances - she's always done coke like others drink coffee (therefore she doesn't see an issue with it; she loves it, it's her cigarette) and she's got it under control. It's madness.

Even if she's not actively doing coke/crack, the incessant chatter prevails her. To be clear, she's exhaustively chatty without help, but doing this makes it, as you can well imagine, horribly worse. Her mind is a pile of mush - and this wears on me. I can feel it invading me. A slow invasion, perhaps preparing for an ambush.

So, I'm writing this book, this book that intends to redeem her of herself. A book that explains how she got here - not why she stays - but that she had good reason to have arrived, that she shouldn't feel shame for it, there are many witnesses now... we all see you and have empathy for the war you lost. We see you and don't think you're horrible; we understand and apologize for any part our ignorance played.  This is what I am trying to write. And... it's hurting me.

Just write the book. That's been my mantra. I wake up in the dark and just as my mind starts to slip into other things, I hear just write the book. Write the fucking book.

But I must, or it helps, stay some what detached. I must create characters that show the heart of the story but are not us. I must create a world that is the magic of love and stuff of nightmares - and not get pulled in, not lose my strength of character to the weakness of my broken people. It is hard, hard work and it's what I do in my down time, my alone time.

Then... then I go to work where I am the sole understander of this feature (massive re-versioning) vision for our product and our users. The functionality we must provide for our users, the experience they deserve, the business cases they have, the software we are. I fight for their needs and experience.

I must teach our engineers why we need to do all the things and I must do it with grace and gratitude, because our engineers deserve to know what they are building and why, the deserve to be excited about what they are providing for small and large businesses. So I am pulling a bungee cord of information into the room and then pulling a bungee cord of engineers into the same room, holding them there, struggling to help the two meet, with all my strength - forever holding the tension of the two who keep pulling back and back...

and while I'm doing that, I'm balancing spinning plates of fires.

It's glorious work, I could only dream of having such a challenge. I'm very happy about the work. However, I am under resourced. I'm getting tired. My heart feels sore, I feel a little wrecked and I don't know what to do. I want to do my best. My very, very best. I want to see this project all the way through and then some.

And I want to write a good book, a book that people enjoy and only realize afterwords that they were there as witness to my/our lives - an adventure book first and emotional journey after. I want to write a book that begins my new life. A life where I can finally let go, a book that tells my sister, once and for all, that "I see you. We all see you - more than you see yourself - and we love you for all that you have endured by your own hand and the had of others. You are redeemed." And from there, the marker will forever stand, the marker where she ends and I let go. Where I understand I have done all the things, the only things I could do to thank her. From there, it will be up to her to decide the life she wants and I will not and don't want to judge it. If she decides that coke and booze are who she is, then okay. But I don't want to watch.

I want to use this spark, this lovely spark (that we both have in our own ways) to write more adventures and I want to make people, myself included, laugh with every piece of their hearts. I want them to laugh and cry with a feeling of completeness and joy. I want to give them gifts that other writers have given me - beautiful idle time where the mind unfolds like a playground.

And I want to travel the world with ease and joy. I want to laugh and dance. I want to feel and give just enough love so as not to feel saturated but satiated.

I want to share this all with my wonderful daughters and their children (when and should they have them)

I want the sweet attainable bliss

...that's funny - because that's the name I've finally decided my sisters name will be in the book - the big reveal is that her real name is not Sorrow (that was a well earned nickname) her real name, the name she was given because that's what her mother thought of her, was/is Bliss.

Perhaps it's not weird at all - that is the ultimate goal - a little bliss for everyone.

So, yeah, where was I? My relationship, my love, that one more thing that I feel needs me to raise my arm to that high shelf, the arm that feels dead tired, I'm sorry... I just can't. If you can wait for me, I would be....

If you can pour your love into me when I am depleted during this time - with no questions asked and excepting of the small returns you get - I would be forever, truly and deeply, honoured and grateful.

My Purpose?

I can't find it lately. Maybe it's that I'm just not feeling it? I've been sick for a week now, I'm a horrible sick person, it's depressing as hell.

It is making me feel sick of myself. My lethargy is unbearable. I'm used to feeling good and with energy. I am neither of those right now. It's like... I have a swimming pool tied to my ass. How do people deal with this? People that have physical ailments that are legit and ongoing?

Me Praying...

I have no idea and I pray that I am not sick much longer. I pray this isn't a permanent state of my existence now - because that's how it feels.

I like to come and look at myself this way, it feels better to call it what it is: pathetic.

I'm wailing in self pity, so it's nice to do it loudly, really feel it.  Know what else I'm sick of? Being creative. Fucking sick of it, my brain is seriously over used right now. And preening over my creativity...?

God, make it stop. The preening anyways. 

I just want to stop feeling sick. I want to stop coughing. I want to stop feeling sorry for myself.

I want to feel spry. I want to feel connected to my purpose... which is... wait for it...

Feeling connected to my state of nothing. Enjoying the state of nothing and no one.

Right, that's it. I forgot. That's why I come here, to write the shit out of me, laugh at myself, and then move on. What a satisfying itch to scratch.

Me not doing yoga

So, here I go...

This is a lie, I have Purple Rain cranked right now...

I can do this... I can do nothing. Deep breaths.... 

I Woke Up (Fucking) Angry

I guess this sort of thing just happens, right? Sometimes your body or brain-body is just unaccommodating and says, "Nu-uh. Not today, pal. Fuck the fuck off."

Funny enough, it first struck right around the time the Greek and I were returning from a lovely day of reconnecting quiet time + dinner. He was driving home and unleashed a surprisingly emphatic (and hidden behind closed windows), "thanks for turning on your signal BITCH" to a woman at a four way stop. It was the bitch part that got me - and then that connected to his seemingly mild behaviour at the restaurant where the waitress - as is her job - came to our table for payment an asked the innocuous question of "any plans for the weekend?" It interrupted a conversation that couldn't continue in her presence so, it was that awkward silence, but that seemed normal enough. But after she took his payment, her eyes just said, fuck you - you arrogant prick.

She picked up on something he was doing (like being incensed that she interrupted us. Seriously 👀?), something I wouldn't see until the four way stop, that he was being a total ass.

So, yeah, that kind of behaviour just really turns me off. I looked at him with a bit of a laugh and wtf dude after the four way and he was like, What? I was just being like Ricky Gervase in After Life. Gervaise' new Netflix series where, because his wife has died, he gets to be a despondent bleak realist  that tells everyone exactly what he's feeling about their stupid behaviour -

the difference being that Gervaise is doing it to people that are actually being idiots AND he does it intelligently and casually,  without an arrogant type of anger.

It was as if the Greek took that show as permission that it was totally fine, good in fact, to shed ones inside intolerance of the world on whimsy.

Obviously, he hadn't stuck around long enough to watch the end of the series where Gervaise' character learns that it's not actually  cool to be an ass, he only watched the parts where Gervaise makes being an ass look like the coolest thing ever.

I have no idea if these things were even lightly connected, it just seemed entirely probable that they were. Either way, my inside self placed that buffer wall to him, the one where I'm like, "ew, dude, that was gross, wtf?" but I wasn't angry.

This morning though, I am as I said, Nu-uh, and it feels pretty intense.

I also have no idea if I just woke up and am tired and grumpy or if there is a direct correlation to his shit yesterday. What I do know is that I feel very indifferent to him right now, and my internal reaction feels disproportionate to the acts, which brings me here. I don't like this feeling and I don't want it. I would like to write it out of me. So, other things of note:

✅I'm still writing: I'm making use of the strange morning hours I keep and putting words to the page. It's going really well, and I'm happy with the work I'm doing.

✅Work is insane in a good way: shit is happening, the things I imagineered are taking shape and it's fucking beautiful. I am challenged in good ways and rising to each challenge. It does, however, feel equivalent to training for free soloing El Capitan, and my brain-body is exhausted at the end of a day. My shitty arrogant men issues seem to be repairing themselves with the introduction of better management.

I'm tired and I should be. Monday - Friday looks like:

5-7am, creative writing
get ready for work, walk to work (30 mins: listen to a podcast or imagine the story/book)
9-4:30pm, be a product owner and herd cats developers and tasks all while calculating solutions to very complex customer problems, project manage some enterprise customers.
4:30-9pm, walk home (30 mins: podcast or story thoughts again), figure out what to feed the minion my niece -  and maybe read/bath, do beauty tasks I've been meaning to do, knit, watch a show, eat some junk food? Hard crash. Sleep. Rinse repeat.

✅I'm sculpting: I have a piece I am working on and I am getting time to it. It stretches me thin on the weekends, but it's good.

✅✖ Love: I have it and I give it, but we are both busy so it can be hit and miss. Most of the time it feels proportionate to what I am looking for in my life and when I check in with him, he reports the same. He gets to play board games, sports, chill with friends and then crawls into a warm bed with me. I get to do all of my aforementioned things and he doesn't take up my personal space and then he makes my body and heart feel loved when he crawls into bed. Sometimes though, he really (super) annoys me.

✖ I'm not working out: this is a problem. My muscles are tight and sore, my butt/body is soft and... lack lustre (I want lustre). I need to fit in massage and acupuncture to fix stressed, tight, pinched muscles.

✖ I don't see my youngest daughter nearly as much: this is because I have my niece and planning weekends away gets more complicated. This wears heavy on my heart and spirit over time.

✖ The Greek and the Niece: he is not kid ready or friendly, he does not get it nor does he care to, nor should he have to. There is a general malaise between them, they agree to disagree on who is the better person between the two - and to be honest, they're both equally lovely and assholes. Yeah, that's me in the middle.

✖ Having my niece: I just don't like having parental duties again. I would like my sister to get her shit together.

✖ ✅My sister: Maybe she's getting her shit together? Conversations have been better? My fingers are crossed, my prayers are plenty.

So, 3 really big ✅'s but 4 niggly  ✖'s  and two in the middle. That's where I'm at.

So... where to go from here? 

I feel overwhelmed. Part of my solution includes forcing exercise into an already packed day. I need some help.

I'm going to manifest some balance and working a few less hours a week and at least working from home one day a week. I'll do 9am classes at the Y and work 10 to 6ish on those days. I'm doing good work, I think they want me to take care of myself and create balance.  

I'm due for a raise, I'm going to manifest an amount that leaves me a generous amount of savings so that I can travel about with ease. Again, I'm doing good work, I believe they see that and want to compensate it fairly.

I am going to continue to prioritize writing this book and put the best of my intelligence and creativity to it.

I am going to manifest being in a healthy, happy, and giving relationship - and then let the chips fall where they may. Tip of the ol' hat to the Gods, Goddesses, and Universe on this one. 


And then I'm going to rest. I am going to let this feeling find its way out and just rest. Tomorrow is a new day.

---

Special thanks to bitmoji for providing visuals for my posts and getting me closer to the small fantasy of creating a comic strip 😛.

Non Titillating Dirty Secrets

Still writing (the novel) and doin' pretty good, I think. I'm taking a small break today because I wanted to write here and I have a headache.

I keep hearing myself say, "I'm just so tired. I'm just sooooooo tired..." and it's hard to tell if I'm actually tired or if it's induced tired, you see: A good amount of the time in a day, my body slides into nicotine withdrawal - a small hidden secret fact.

Afterwork is when I attempt to pile drive some nicotine into my body with a smoke so that my eyes and brain will respond properly.

Because the Greek often goes out in the evening, he plays sports, board games, hangs with buddies,  I get to relax and do the cigarette thing like a normal adult. And, I also get to relax and be me, such as:

• Not talk to anyone
• have a bath and read forever
• sometimes clean up and organize
• call one of my daughters and gab with them 
• have a glass of wine
• have a cigarette (one is usually fine)
• binge watch a series like a sloth
• includes eating horribly and loving every minute of it

Because of the smoking thing with the Greek, I'm often just so glad to have him hurry and leave so I can at least do that (or that's what I've been telling myself), but if I imagine myself being able to have a guilt free glass of wine and cigarette while he was here, I would still feel obligated to revolve the remainder of my time around him/us. 

Now, I'm not saying that he's demanding that, it could very well be me that's projecting that.

I'm also not saying that he isn't unconsciously demanding that I entertain him, and it's subtle enough that I don't pick it up. 

OR, both of us are together so we're both assuming a "I guess we're here together, we should do things together" type mindset because we're still kinda newlyweds. 

What I know for sure is that after I get home from work and am able to have that cigarette, wine, and silence - I perk up and decide what it is *I* would like to do: tv, bath, knit, talk to family... and I'm no longer exhausted.

If he was home with me I would have sat on the couch with him and

a) had a long, drawn out dish about work bullshit that can end up being us talking negatively about work, or
b)  watching a show that we both want to watch  and promptly fall asleep against the warmth of this body -  "exhausted." 

I think what I'm saying is that he might be like having an over scheduled child that doesn't know how to be bored. MAYBE I'm saying that. 

I'm not sure. 

(pretty sure though)

Blood Red Moon

I'm creating distance, a buffer zone, between us. Or it's just there and I don't know how to close the gap and am too tired or apathetic to try. Meh, meh, meh. I don't care.

Maybe this is the beginning of the end and I just don't want to admit it. Maybe I just don't have time and space in my head enough for a relationship. I'm not... enthused at the prospect of love making. Not really. I think I'd rather be alone most of the time.

• I just want to get this book written, focus.
• Make sure my niece is cared for and loved, nurtured and growing, and keeping a relationship with her familiar that is positive
• Do my job well - deliver a smart and useable product
• Sculpt a bit.

Mayhaps, I would enjoy a movie with him from time to time.

Those 3.5 things. I just want to do those things as myself.

That's the pisser I think. I don't feel like I can be myself, truly, with the Greek. I'm holding a lot of who I am back from him because... I just don't think he gets it and I don't want to explain it because... see above points. Those are the only things I want to do. Get out of my way, please and thankyou.

I want a part time boyfriend I guess, and I don't happen to mind the warm roommate in my bed at night. I just don't want to feel responsible to a relationship - a building of a life  - I aint got no time for that.

I hope that I'm not taking advantage of gifts. And if the gift is that I do get a person who is content to have a part time girlfriend, I hope I can see that and rejoice in it for what it is.

Dear Universe, Gods, and Goddesses

Dirty Energy

Like I put some bad gas in my car, I feel like my soul is coughing and choking along. I'm angry.

I was fine up and until my landlady asked if I would like to pitch in for the firewood shed that her firewood guy built for 'us.' Only, it's a fixture at this house and I'm renting. Why the fuck would she ask me to pay for a portion of solid fixture of her house? It's like asking me to pitch in for renos.

Well, I'll tell you why (I think she would ask that). She's a penny pincher and she tries to squeeze dimes from anywhere she can, including asking people that she senses she can take advantage of ... for a small fee. In my mind, she has enough gal to be something like, "I'll put them in an awkward position where saying no makes you look like a bit of an ass...it's only $20" and this slight of hand towards insincerity has me wholly and completely incensed.

I believe I feel so strongly about this because I'm tired of people taking advantage of kindnesses, little tiny scratches that add up over time - and I'm starting to SPEAK UP. But that one was so small... that I didn't. And I'm mad at myself for not being clear.

This has spurned my slightly rabid, captured dog syndrome. Or, you know, large angry cat

First my sister, then my ex-coworker friend, my current full blown male ego coworkers, my thrifty landlord, my still emotionally developing sidekick (the Greek)...

Shitty parts of people and the world can fuck itself today. I'm not taking calls.