we aren’t the world

We Aren’t the World

shower power

At some point, the life I had lauded on this very blog lost its charm...probably about two years ago. I starting mentally calling bullshit on the community I had wrapped myself in like a warm and fuzzy sweater. Things just started feeling like this vaguely pretentious, privileged, almost entirely white, middle class, self-involved, passive-aggressive dystopia. And within that group, I had become this court jester; invited along to shuck and jive, be funny & crazy & outlandish & over the top enough that it probably made people feel better about their choices...that brilliant moment of "damn, at least I didn't take it that far." I really started to feel like the lone little boy who noticed the nakedness of the emperor, despite everybody else's conviction that he was in the finest garments EVER. So I bowed out. I think I did it as gracefully as I am personally capable of, most likely not... In the process I lost a few people who I didn't think I would lose. And that makes me sad. Friendships ended. Feelings hurt. Opportunities lost. Bridges burned, without even the memory of tossing the Molotov to have made it so. Probably the most deleterious side effect of all of this is that I also lost a great deal of my ability to relate to people. And to keep my mouth shut. Although, frankly, that one has always been a problem. I just spent a week doing a work thing, and by the end of it I didn't really like myself very much. I don't feel like a good person; I spend a fair amount of time in the douche-zone.

bleeding heart

Some days, when I feel particularly empty inside, I imagine cutting a hole in my chest to see if there is still a beating heart in there. The logical part of me knows that there is, I'm still living after all; but the part of me that doesn't feel very alive wonders. If this momentary lapse into psychotic fantasizing comes with a visual fantasy, I often find myself giddy from the picture in my head. I don't think this makes me particularly crazy. I bet if I googled this, a lot of people have these very same thoughts.

affirmative

After the quick departure of my live-in, pseudo-spouse (apparently, fake divorce is not fake-frustrating), I'm in the need of a dog-sitter and the replacement of the extra income from having rented out a spare room would be beneficial. So far I am all goose-eggs. I thought I would try to rent out the spare room again, temporarily, and went the craigslist route. I said no to somebody because I thought I had a more promising lead. The more promising person fell through, and another person stopped responding. Both of the last two opted out after I sent pictures of my place. I guess it's not nearly as cool as I think it is. Not everybody is into hoarder-sized vintage apron collections and a color palette that resembles the aftermath of a Holi Festival? Weird. Mostly though, I am concerned about the dog. I have to find a good situation for him. I wonder how other work-travelers deal with this. Do they board their dogs? Do they pay dog-walkers? Neither seems like the better choice for le dog, and definitely not for my pocketbook. All of my previous dog-sitters, before the pseudo-spouse, are gone or no longer available. My family is willing to help, but that involves the trek down south. A few friends have offered on a limited basis, but I have to find something consistent. Blargh. I keep telling myself that if these are the worst of my problems, I don't have it so bad. But, dang, my stomach is in knots.

new year, same story

I really do not know why I expect anything different. I guess the upside is that I don't feel disappointed.