Ever get annoyed? Ever feel like someone needs to be told where the dog died? Or handed a crowbar and a tub of Elbow Grease to help them pry their head out of their arse? Congratulations--you've come to the right place.

And when I'm not commenting on the latest thing to piss me off, I'm trying to figure out my own twisted life. Because, hey, I'm like that.

On a gentler note: for anyone dealing with depression, anxiety, and other assorted bullshit: You are NOT alone.

And if you're looking for a laugh, search on the key word "fuckery." It's just my little thing (as the bishop said to the actress).

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Errrrrmmmmm... hello?

Dearest Blog,
I am so sorry it's been over a month since I've visited you. Please accept my apologies for being a bad blogger. I promise I will try to be better in future.
Hello, my blurking dears. Greetings from lovely Nova Scotia. After multiple postponements, I finally made it up here. And yeah, I'm a friggin' mess. Insomnia kicked my ass for two days (surprise, surprise), but I'm actually getting on a normal schedule for the first time in forever.
And I'm finally letting myself grieve--the loss of community, the loss of home (when Hell's Vestibule is finally sold, it will be the first time in my life I have no roots, no place to call "home;" I cannot tell you how horrible it leaves me feeling, how lost and afraid), and being in a "real" relationship for the first time since I was married. (For those of you unaware, I was married for a couple of years; it ended in 1990.)
Nothing puts my ass into perspective like a few days in the company of my eternally practical Capricorn best friend. If you are not a believer in astrology, whatever. I don't know that I believe in it; I do know that there are some people who epitomize their sun signs. I am a true blue Scorpio, and never, never was there a more Capricornish Capricorn than Vicki. After months of just trying to maintain and keep from completely losing it, to actually have the time to stop, rest and think... have had a few good cries. Still haven't sorted out things, but I'm actually breathing and resting and not in a constant state of flat panic.
I have to face the employment shit. I really don't want to. I have two potential courses of action: 1) retraining (which is really appealing) for something new, different and more interesting. 2) Applying for a job with Planned Parenthood. They have an opening for a purchasing agent in Boston; while it's not a new career path, it will be a job with an employer that I firmly, completely believe in. After working for BBN years ago and temping in an MIT lab that did experiments on live animals, I know for a fact that I can't work for an employer whose mission does not mesh with my ethics and values. Academia... *sigh* Academia has become a disgraceful racket. I believe in the work--education--but I don't believe in the infrastructure and administrative BS that encumbers it.
It's like knowing how the magic trick is done--up to a point, it's cool, but once you know that there are two birds and one has to die, the lustre is lost. I love working with young adults, but I hate being a part of the machine that is setting them up to enter adulthood deeply in debt and is NOT preparing them for reality and teaching them practical skills. The fact that college today has become the equivalent of high school in the 70's is shameful. I just don't know if I can be a part of that.
Planned Parenthood... that's an organization I can work for with no qualms.
Next item: family. When I get back, I have to help Mum with applications and work on cleaning out the house. I can do that. I can handle that. Her brother is voluntarily going into rehab for a month--he's putting himself in.
I'm a bit overwhelmed by this news. He has accepted that his life has gotten out of control and he needs to clean himself up. I am afraid to hope. I am desperately afraid to hope.
And then... then there is the relationship. For the record, his name is Al. It's been four plus months--it almost ended; it may still. I take nothing for granted there. However... there is hope. Being with him has brought home to me how damaged I am. I have a dichotomy to face regarding my sexuality and a lot of healing to do. Thank the merciful Gods I am dating a decent, gentle and amazing man. He ain't perfect, kids, but then, neither am I. He's a much better, nicer person than I am--his compassion and desire to do the right thing leave me in awe. I have never known a man who, when I've said that something was wrong, actually LISTENED, took it in, and tried to do something about it. I hope with all my heart this works out. Don't get me wrong--he drives me utterly nuts at times, but then, that's normal and as it should be. I drive him up the wall, too, but we work. Together, we work. If this is happy, I'll take it.
However... happy scares the piss out of me. What I have with Al is something I've never had before, something I've dreamed of all my life. To finally get this at my age... it's terrifying. So I'm doing everything I can NOT to fuck it up. Going away and leaving him behind has been beyond scary. Trying not to be clingy and constantly in touch is a challenge--that "pleasePLEASEpleasePLEASEplease DON'T forget me!" needy part of me that I hate so much. Trusting... trusting is such a challenge. It's not him, either, that I don't trust--it's me.
Christ, I am so fucked in the head.
And then... then there are the creative challenges. I managed to do some sculpting last night that I'm actually pleased with. Next up... some writing. I've been writing bits and bobs of books 2, 3 & 4, but the real challenge is the rewrite of book 1. I made a major decision about a character--a decision not to kill someone--and I finally realized that I'm not saving her: I'm saving myself. I'm trying to save my own life, holding out a hand and protecting a child like I was not all those years ago. Argh. I hate when my art imitates my life.
So Nova Scotia is working her magic on me--I'm relaxing and healing. I arrived bleeding and badly wounded, and I'm slowly pulling it all back together.
So, thank you, dearest blurkers for indulging me. Hopefully, I'll be back at it and commenting on life the universe and everything again on a regular basis.
Or, at least, plugging Jim Jefferies--not only seeing him in September at the Wilbur IN THE FRONT ROW!--but he's playing Foxwoods on my b-day weekend. Can you say, "road trip?"
And on that note... I need a shower and to get my arse in gear. Much love, kids--be good to each other, be good to yourselves. Let's hope things improve.

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