I Sooo Totally Suck at Blogging!

I’m not very good at keeping on top of this blogging situation. . . seems like I only make time when I really need to be doing something else.

Well, I AM the master of procrastination.

Anyway, tomorrow night I am going on a date with a guy I met online. We’ve exchanged a few email and he seems really nice, so hopefully when we meet up he’ll turn out to be nice in person and not some weirdo.

That’s my news for the day. Now, I must get back to work and end this procrastination for once and for all!

Mood: Excited

Listening to: Another One Bites the Dust, Queen

Drinking: hot chocolate

Hair: experimental

Healing through Art

Last night I went to a monthly poetry night at a local gallery with my sister. It was our first time and it was fabulous. The only place I ever feel I truly belong is in an artistic setting like that. I know the whole alienated artist thing is totally overdone (well, I don’t know that really, but my best friend seems to think so and I trust her judgment) but I really do feel that way most of the time.

I’m so stereotypically ordinary in that way I guess. I feel angry and misunderstood except when I’m writing (and I don’t mean crap like this or the articles I do for work, I’m talking about creating something)or when I’m surrounded by people who write or when I’m reading what others have written.

That’s joy for me. That’s happiness. That’s where I belong. And when I get away from it and stuck out here in the world where people don’t see metaphors in simple daily activities, where people don’t scribble notes in the middle of a conversation, where people don’t even read anymore, I get depressed and discouraged and I forget where it is I truly belong. I forget that world is out there.

That’s why evenings out like last night are so important to enrich my mind and soul, to stimulate my brain, and keep me sane. These people exist. These people who understand me and know how I feel. I want so badly to surround myself with them and stay there.

Tomorrow I attend my first small fiction workshop with three other women. This forced me to look at my manuscript today and fire something off to the girls. . . it forced me to write something creative. WOW!! This is a good thing.

Things are truly looking up. I can stay on an even keel as long as I maintain some sort of regular contact with my peers and write something new. This is my goal. This is how I will heal myself and stay sane.

Mood: Spiritual

Listening to: Everything is Automatic, Matthew Good

A New Week Dawns . . .

And I’m in better spirits! I’m a happy camper. Sometimes I wonder about mental illness, hormonal deficiencies, etc. Bi-polar and manic depressive are just a couple of terms I toss around. My mood swings are pretty wicked. I’ll be down in the dumps, the lowest of low every day for a month and then suddenly I’m singing and dancing and floating on a cloud. The happiness might last six weeks and then I’ll get angry. And I’m not talking about a little flash of anger that pops in unexpectedly and disappears just as suddenly as it came. I’m talking about a slow burn, a deep simmer, where I travel around for weeks on the brink of catastrophic explosion.

I think these mood shifts might have something to do with my cycle . . . but I don’t know. The moods come and go and last for such a long time, that mental illness sometimes seems to be the more logical answer. It’s certainly way beyond a little PMS.

At any rate, this week I’m out of the dumps and into the high spirits. This is a week where I’ll work tons and do laundry and exercise religiously and finish books and go places and do things . . . and all with a big grin. Why can’t every week be like this one? I don’t know.

All I know is that I plan to enjoy this brief respite to the fullest. Have a great week! I know I’m going to.

Mood: Soaring? Crazy? Fucked if I know the difference

Listening to: Soul Surrender, Mike Echlin

Drinking: the usual

Hair: Getting long

Throes of Arthritis

I am sad. My body betrays me every day. I am not who people think I am. I am sad. I am a foreigner in this land and nobody knows my name. I am only happy in the world of my dreams where celebrity guest stars pop in just to say “Hi!” like old friends and I am always smiling. In dreams I have the brightest skin, hair and eyes. In dreams I feel light, weightless . . . and how I dance. In my dreams it doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts.

Mood: Suffering

Drinking: Not enough

Listening To: Tom Sawyer, Rush

Hair: Limp

The Birthday Blues

I think I may have a case of the birthday blues. In a couple of weeks I will be turning 35, which is one of those milestone years. I’m saying goodbye to my early 30’s and entering the new era of my late 30’s, which as we all know is followed by the 40’s. In five years I’m going to be 40!! That freaks me out. It gives new meaning to the phrase, “What have you been doing all your life?”

I think I’m a little depressed about this. Well, no doubt about it, I AM depressed and have been for a couple of weeks, but I think maybe my impending birthday may be the cause. . . or it could be the gloom and doom rainy weather. More likely, a healthy combination of each.

I’m almost 40 and I’ve accomplished pretty much nothing. I live at home with my parents. I own nothing. I have no friends outside of family really. I’m the lowest paid person at my work. I make very little and I really don’t like my job. I don’t have a boyfriend or a car or a house or any of that stuff I should have by now. I have a dog who I’ll have to abandon when I’m finally able to leave this place and go out on my own. This breaks my heart.

I don’t know, when you’re in your twenties you think of all that you will have accomplished and experienced by the time you turn 40 and you envision how your life will be then and this is not anywhere near what I ever had in mind. It’s all pretty much the same, nothing changes.

I need to make some changes. I need to embrace my life and start living it. I don’t want to be in the same place I am now when I’m 40. I’m ready for something real.

Mood: Kinda down

Listening to: Your Love, The Outfield

Drinking: tea

Hair: who cares?

The Dating Dilemma . . . Again!

I’ve been reading a lot of blogs by singles who say dating is tough.

One woman says it’s tough because young guys usually want kids of their own (and she is done in that department) while older guys usually have older children and don’t want to have anything to do with younger ones anymore (hers are toddlers.)

Then there’s a single father who has pretty much given up on the dating scene because he says most women either don’t want anything to do with him because he has custody of his kids or else they become jealous of his kids and the relationship ends badly. His kids are top priority.

Okay. Then there’s me. I don’t have kids. I’m pretty sure I don’t want kids, but I wouldn’t rule them out completely with the right young guy, (although time is growing short). In a perfect world, I’d like to date someone who doesn’t have them and doesn’t want them. . . which is almost impossible. So, as strange as it may sound, ideally I’m looking for that young single dad who already has kids and doesn’t want anymore.

You see, I actually like kids. But I don’t want to be a mother. So, with a single dad I get to enjoy the kids, love the kids, co-parent the kids to a certain extent, but I don’t have to take on the complete motherhood package. That suits me fine.

I’ve been in a couple of relationships with guys who had kids, who either had or shared custody so the kids were around a lot. One family was boys, the other girls, both teenaged. Both were too soon after the marriage break up, but hindsight is always 20/20, right? I got along well with the boys, but the girls didn’t like me (they didn’t like any woman their dad had brought home). In still another relationship, the child was a toddler, a little girl. This was easier, toddlers are cool.

But, in my somewhat limited experience, it’s not the kids keeping these guys from great relationships, it’s the relationship with their exes. In all these cases, the relationship with the ex was rocky at best, and downright homicidal maniac at worst.

But maybe I don’t represent the norm. . . that’s always a possibility đŸ˜‰

Mood: Ponderous

Listening to: Eyes of a Stranger, The Payolas

Drinking: Boiled tea (it’ll drive you crazy)

Hair: Getting way out of hand!