In Triplicate


It is nice to be mouthless.  Something I could never have reckoned with as a girl who wanted Hello Kitty to be free to speak her Hello Kitty thoughts.  But it is nice not to have to tell you stories of distemper and distaste, not to have to show up and look weak, not to have to…

Sometimes I sit still and I feel as though I have got the whole nation, the whole world’s despair not only over their choice (willing or otherwise) of leader, but of every last little discomfort in their lives.  Every last thing going wrong shuffling about in your head, oh cripes, it’s here in mine. It’s not right.  It’s killing us.  It’s too much.

It’s not yours, something like the Faithful Light will remind me, you only have that slag heap over there.  That’s it.  All the rest of it is not yours.  But, I think, I see it.  I know that it exists – hungry babies, pissed-off fathers, the snow in the morning, this grinding in my skull, that any day something horrible will happen – it will, it’s unavoidable – the inevitable brokenness of every last thing. I have just been ignoring it for a while, but it’s true.  It’s true how terrible it is.

But.  I sit longer and it is also true that I have ice in the freezer which makes the water better to drink and which makes me feel full.  I have a mentor who texts me to come in later, to feel better, to get my spunk back.  I have a mind that reads spunk and still laughs.  I have a mother sleeping soundly in her bed surrounded by my father who loves her and a dog that believes she is the closest thing there is to God.  I have kind friends who multiply the thin wisps of kindness I deign to blow hither and thither.  I have a dear maniac and a dear brick of a cat.  I am not so terribly sick as I might be.

I also had my card today so I was able to buy gas and lunch.  That felt entirely luxurious.  That and despite the panic attacks, the ones that keep ramping up because I feel so down about my ability to quash them and the insurance shit and the money shit and the other shit, I was able to get home before the snow fell.   That’s good.

I did a few things today.  I did what I was asked and a sliver more.


So I am going to run off and try and write a few things before this computer crumbles beneath my fingertips.  There’s always Fallen London and some DAI to chase around.  I am okay.  A few hours here and I feel better even if I’m having the neck/shoulders/teeth grinding thing which upsets everything terribly.  I am alright.  Eventually, maybe we’ll stretch our legs and try and climb up to that next rung on the ladder.  But tonight, alright’s alright, alright?

The Track, The Rut, The Path


Things we do tonight:

Pack the bag for tomorrow – this will mean that there probably won’t be a post tomorrow now that I think of it.  I do want to get up early enough to hit the library to print my resume, just in case.

None of that is of particular importance to me right now.

I am looking back at tweets and posts and thoughts from two years ago, digging into the massive digital archive I have of my emotional wellbeing or lack thereof, and realizing that it was precisely two years ago that I gave my notice.  That it was precisely three years ago I started the writers group (which, despite my hiatus, is carrying on in my absence, which I love because that means I can bring a fabulous draft back to them when I am ready and present and attentive).  That it was about this time four years ago when the driving panic really set in.

There’s a moving forward and a pulling back and I don’t know what it all means, but I know, know, know, know that I need stability so that I can work on myself and never be consumed by my job again.  So that if there’s a Mumford show, it can’t sneak up on me and I have thoughts about whether or not I’m capable of enjoying it.  Whether or not I’m capable of experiencing it with anything other than this hairshirt distracting me from the joy that is my reality.

I am wildly frustrated at my boss.  She’s so wigged out about everything that she’s at the fully checked out stage.  Nothing is working so there’s just goofy ideas about cat cafes and…Nothing and I  find myself unable to carry the spear that will pop her and bring her down to earth.   There’s just constant bad news, we have to move from the massive, free-rent office space we have, and the few co-workers that remain are exhausted by this drama and being let down day after day.  It’s just not acceptable.  It’s daily regression.  It’s not fair after everything I’ve given up to see it work.

Here’s the trajectory I want.  New job, potentially at the place I am visiting tomorrow, though, it’s just talk.  The thing about whatever new job is that it will be steady, regular work for regular pay. This means I get my weekends back.  Evening and weekends, that’s time for writing.  Getting your hair cut on a regular basis, starting this whole exercise routine that improve my disposition.   Put this story to bed, start writing articles, doing little things that build my capacity to write fiction on a daily basis.  Really dig into my projects and eventually, eventually, write full-time at home.  Do that whilst being in mad love with someone.

That’s the glory I want, I am gunning for, I deserve without changing a hair on my stressed-out head.

And now, Sleepytime tea, no computer glare to wake me up, a good try at catching Queen Mab as she sails.

The Drunk Ceramicist


In just a moment, I will rise and take up the mantle of America’s Foremost Home Cook (in this one particular home) and make dinner.

The moment came.  There’s rice made by the sister, and now chicken thighs I am trying to recall whether or not are boneless, all seasoned and in the oven, and I’m steaming broccoli and cauliflower and I have pineapple juice that I can put rum in.  All in all, probably a better meal than I have cooked (mostly) for myself in a long while.

Today was odd.  The boss was gone – a sick day, probably her own version of a mental health day – and I didn’t get the usual onslaught of emails that come even when she’s out.  I didn’t get a phone call.  I made one invoice.  I mostly just worked on willing myself to file and organize as best I could, and write down the bigger projects I need to begin thinking about as this transition (in whatever form it comes) begins go solidify in my mind.  It was hard to buckle down.

I also ran out and had the sort of pizza that erases horrific pizza memories like that of the one I had yesterday.  So it’s good to do something that approximates healthier tonight.  I am thinking about it – it’s funny that when I forget to worry about work or forget for a few hours to grind my teeth, I realize that I actually have an interest in things like exercise.  Yoga.  In life in general.  Getting out of the formaldehyde and breathing the free air.

If I were to be working on something like that elusive something, this might make for a chapter break.

(The chicken is actually really good – nice for that to work out like that.)

So I suppose, in a roundabout way, what I want to say is that I felt alright today.  I felt unchained, free again, and ready to stay that way even if that’s not entirely up to me.  Ready to move on.  Ready to try again.  Even, in the car, where my anxiety ebbs and flows as a result of such a combination of things (food, mood, stress from a hundred different sources, the time of day, traffic, the energy in the song on the radio, if anything unexpected happened – a detour, a slowdown, an accident), I felt like I was facing it rather than scrunching down and bearing it.

I could sit there at that light and not let it turn into the thing where I go all tic-y and sweaty and desperate.  Maybe it was just a result of having had the day to myself, more or less, but I walked away from the battle a little less bloody today.

Tomorrow, we go to the shop and I can continue suspending my beliefs and climbing back up to snuff.

And with my last little bit of journaling today: Happy Birthday to my dear friend who may or may not read this today.  She deserves people dancing in the streets with delight over the beneficence that was her getting borned.  Instead, we have blog posts, but we will duly use them.



The Bullet That Bit Back

happy-face-1191165-639x426While I know I need to sit down and write a few things, I do feel as though today is a journal sort of day.  This is my version of a bullet journal.

  • Good news for my mom – or at least, as we’ve put it to one another, promising news.  Her CT scan came back as feeble.  This apparently is good and means things are not progressing, cancerwise, but the doctor will explain more on Friday.  I do not want to start understanding things on my own because I’m liable to start thinking things are fine and then, then, I’ll be in for it if they’re not.  Suffice to say, promising.
  • I also spoke today with my mentor who got that breakfast scheduled with the woman who can do something, one way or another, for my so-called career path.   I’ve sent off my resume to the woman I described yesterday, too, and now I’m learning more about what that might entail if I were to work at the same company as she does and it’s completely not what I was anticipating, but it’s also, likely, something that could be workable, too.  They have a gym.  And health insurance and…
  • It was a great conversation.  My mentor, wow, I just bubble over with gratitude that she gives a damn about what happens to me and wants to see me installed some place that allows me to write along with getting my bills paid.  I felt like the best parts of the old days where I was being seen as a colleague, an equal, a friend who needed to be heard. It was genuine.  I like, it turns, out a few genuine things in this world.
  • I was also given a free, beautiful pullover.  And crabapple jam, so…
  • I also had a memorably horrific pizza today, which, as some rolled-over stress from Job A for a prodigious headache, is lodged in my brain forever with a tag for Nausea Trigger Par Exemple.   It was, of course, disappointing coffee shop’s new restaurant venture and I went in, distractedly, knowing I had to figure out some place to get food so that the headache didn’t go into migraine territory.  I thought it only fair to give it the ol’ college try.  First bad news was there was no ice.  NO ICE?! My heart was broken from the get-go.  It would Lazarus me back from the dead to have some ice in a glass.  As that wasn’t available, it was just me and some lukewarm water and what I thought was a pizza on its way.  It was, instead, a cracker with no discernable color on the bottom, just warmed cheese and luke warm Italian meats.  The sauce was the only bearable part and the thought of it now encourages me to retch just like all the rest.  I…don’t think these people make good food.
  • Somewhere in the mid-range future, a kitten is waiting.
  • There’s a new episode of Great British Bake-Off to watch, I’ve also discovered where the wedding I will never have is required to be held, and isn’t that exciting?

Killer of Sorts


I am such a medical marvel.  I feel much, much better overall, just of course, beyond a few instances when I thought my scalp was on fire, I was allergic to strawberries, my face was as red as Violet Beauregarde’s was blue, or that I was having some form of conniption.  Or the subtle ache in my legs. Beyond that, the neck and teeth felt 10 times better than I expected them to.  I feel a little bit closer to what I ought to be, typically.   Just…odd, like something’s radiating out of me and acting weird as it runs through my body.  Still.  Here we are.

Can’t get too hung up on that for now for reasons asserted earlier.

Tomorrow, I am a shop girl and we talk about the future.  My mentor has found another person for me to send my resume to – someone who is not a stranger to me, per se.  It used to be, many moons ago – perhaps I wrote about it here, I should check, that a very elderly man came by the center where I worked.  He was gregarious, chatty, self-amused.  One of those flirtatious old men who could be mildly flirtatious and it wouldn’t bother you because he was both so old and so kindly with it.  And he decided I had a nickname – he called me Happy.  Mostly, I imagine, because I put on the good show and welcomed him and chatted with him and didn’t ignore him as people might be wont to do with someone so willing to hang about and comment on life as it passed by.   Apparently I made enough of an impact that I got invited to his 95th birthday party.  I didn’t know anyone, but that’s never been the sort of restriction to stop me if I’m curious and willing otherwise to respond to an invitation.  There, I realized that his daughter and granddaughters knew who I was, too, and as they were likable and warm-hearted people, I didn’t mind this either.

He was a very nice man, who, sadly, if naturally, passed away a few years ago.  His daughter is the one who will be taking a look at my resume.  I will have to learn tomorrow what she even does.

I had a long conversation with a co-worker.  Her frustration is the same as ours and I can only say at this point what I feel.  I can’t continue this way.  So, I’m looking.  She, being another kind, good spirit (I am surrounded by them constantly), says good for you and I believe she means it.  We’re all worn down by this, caring, understanding the reasons, wishing it were otherwise…none of that shifts the reality that I want stability so that I can start pulling together the story of my writing life.

Also, I killed a spider in my shower.  I did it because of Mary Oliver, Nietzsche, and my earnest desire for cleanliness.  I didn’t want to do it, I tried to sic the cat after it, but in the end, it was me.




We asked the electric Company




Where did the power come from?

My teeth are not, after being reviewed, x-rayed, and cleaned by knowledgeable and pleasant dental technicians, broken beyond repair.  My gums are not garish, slit cherry compote studded with shards of dissolving antacids for teeth.  They look good.  They are not shocking, they do not cause onlookers to shriek out in fright.  I don’t have wisdom teeth to pull.

I did not have any sort of panic about the fact that I have just enough money to do this as part and parcel of the larger financial issues (that I did not cause and I cannot rectify until I leave my position), that I had to rush out of work in the middle of the day to check this.  That I had to get x-rays which always pulls my trigger.  I did not spaz out even though the route to the dentist’s office was all detours and delays.  It was, as it always is, more doable than it seemed at the outset.  This does give me a sense of peace I was not expecting to have this evening.

Another surprise was that as I continue to at least let my fingers brush over the MyFitnessPal app, I felt the need to weigh myself this morning.  I was quite surprised to see that according to that fickle beast, I have not gained any weight since my last weigh-in.  In fact, I’ve lost another pound so I’m down 15 lbs since January.  The sister noted that it’s probably due to the second job where I am on my feet quite a bit.  Frankly, I don’t know how this is possible.  But here it is.  And I am not going to cast it aside even if I’m not sure how to improve it at the moment.  It’s a piece of good news and I will rub it till it gleams.

I have decided not to work on my application tonight for the new job.  I’m too emotional, too scattershot, too in my own head about a few things and I’m liable to dash it off without thinking and I’m at the point where this particular job sounds like it’s a good thing and I’d like to give it my best shot rather than pretend I don’t care.   It will be okay not to get it, but it would also be very good if I had something stable, full-time and satisfactory money-wise to be shifting into.  Because right now, my brain is shifting even if it has nowhere to go.

Today was a good day, however, I am also really frustrated about the whole lesson I’m being given while being in this singles community, that if you’re not dating anyone, and you don’t immediately leap at the chance to date the person who knocks on your message box, well, you’re manipulating the situation to wait for someone better to come along.

It’s one thing if I were to be hanging out with you, complimenting you, building anything more than chatter, and also trying to flirt wildly with everyone else.  But I’m just here in the group and now I feel like I can’t even comment to anyone else or it’s like I’m saying I’m picking that dude.  When I’m not picking anyone! There’s nobody at the moment I want to pick! Pick for what? Ugh!

I suppose it does come down to saying, sorry, Charlie, you’re not the one for me.  Can’t some other girl just do me a solid and fall in love with him like has always happened in the past?  Come on geeky ladieeeesz.

Sailing the Panacea

natural-remedy-c-1327831-639x497Odd.  Odd.  Odd.

I have decided because I feel so…inert, so worried, so overwhelmed by the whole growing up with so much unreliability taking place right at the moment I need it to be steady, that I have to do something.   I have to knock the negative energy somewhere, even if it’s only going to roll back downhill at me.

So, suffice it to say, regardless of knowing whether or not I have insurance to cover it, I’ve got a dental appointment next week.   Wednesday.  I have no clear understanding as to whether or not I should be rushing to get there, demanding that they clear the decks and throw me on the table.   I only know that I was sort of questioning whether or not I would just wait it out until the end of October, and that…that seemed like a bad call.  Maybe it would improve as it has before, and maybe it wouldn’t, but with all my care and good intentions brushing and flossing and rinsing of late, I haven’t been able to do anything but just keep it bearable.  So, I have an appointment for a cleaning and an exam and I am frustrated as fuck that it might be a big financial wallop when I have been walloped back and forth and right and left these days, but you know…the instant I got off the phone with the scheduler, I felt lighter.

Not better, but at least not just sitting here dwelling on the damage taking place. At least I can say I’ve made an honest effort to get my mouth looked after, and that after Wednesday, I’ll be feeling differently than I do now which is crappy.  Crap-pee to the point where I can’t get motivated elseways at all.  I do feel 10% closer to returning to my body and my progress forward on this earth.

And of course, not but a few moments later, I get a sorta hello from You! Of all people, you! I mean, I am not going to reply back until I get the full hello because I refuse to get gleeful about what could just end up being another kick in the head after a month of this particular correspondent being incommunicado.  It’s a click of a button, not anything more taxing than that.  It is an incredible coincidence, of course, that I have a brief burst of positivity and another follows along to shore it up.  It’s enough to give your Pollyanna a bit of a smile.   How odd, though, to choose arbitrarily to assert one’s presence on a Thursday afternoon when it was just as easily left alone.

It’s a good thing I don’t care at all, isn’t it?

Elsewise, I have another job to do tomorrow.  I’ve got food to eat and I’m ready to go steam long dresses I will never own. Today also allowed me to see my beloved aunt, my beloved mother, my beloved father.   Life just carrying on, sweetly as it does.  My mother is feeling well enough to go back to work – for a half day, just to see.  She had just about given away all those clothes.