The Confusion

I spent the night texting (sexting?) with Curious1. I fell asleep over and over again, and the buzzing phone in my hand kept waking me up. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment? Perhaps I just wanted to feel connected to someone last night.

I woke up late (going to sleep at 7:30 will do that to you…) and in a rotten mood. I’m tired. No, it’s more than being tired. I’m weary. I haven’t figured out how to kick that yet. This soul-draining inability to move forward with my life is really taking its toll on me. But I am moving forward, I know I am.

July was when T. moved away for good. August 1 is when we decided to split, the Ex and I. August marked Old M. The autumn months were full of NJ. I changed jobs in October. In December the Ex bought his house. It was January when I found my apartment, March 11 before I could move in, thanks to the incomplete repairs. The Trip Across America was in April. NYC was only a few weeks ago. I got the p/t job last week. My life has been nothing but change, and perhaps that’s why I’m having trouble remembering who I am and what I want.

I climbed the mountain last week. When I stood at the top, on the curve of the road with nothing in front of me except cherry trees and tall green grass, it was the first time in so long that I felt at home. Peace settled on my shoulders in a way I’d almost forgotten. I wish that feeling was always there… that sense of calm and rightness. Christ, I wish I knew how to keep that.

Is that what life is? Just a search for the perfect moments that remind us of who we are?

First Time for Everything.

So here I am, leaving WDC to post over here. I feel badly about it… like I’m cheating on an old familiar friend, someone who was there through thick and thin, but wants to charge me money to do what I can do here for free. I think it’s great that they charge over there – more power to the SM & SMS… But this … “rebirth” is about more than that to me, I think. It’s about more than paying out money, it’s also about a fresh start in a new place. Gonna keep my account over there, but I have no idea how often I’m going to use it.

(I find myself fascinated by the word counter on the right… I’m watching to see the numbers increase and I want to type faster and faster and faster to watch the numbers go higher and higher and higher…)

Anyway. Today T. gave me some news about the Little Man. There may be light at the end of the tunnel again -as in, real, tangible light, instead of that foggy phosphorescence that I’ve been living with for the past six months. Six months. I never thought I’d be in Hell that long. We figured a month… I made all my work passwords a variation of “SongandDance”  because I didn’t expect to be there long enough for them to expire. And yet I have been. Now, “SongandDance” is sort of a cruel joke on me. Not quite what I had in mind.

I won’t get into the details, because if I did, she’d kill me – no doubt figuring that even if I don’t use names, someon could figure something out and then we’d both be in a heap o’ shit. Thankfully, T.’s paranoia does not run to the same extent as the Little Man’s, because if it did, I’d never know anything. I like being in the loop. At her bidding, I called her today from Hell and listened with a great deal of interest to her news.  I have to admit, though, I honestly thought men with heavy German accents might come whisk me away at any moment. It’s a damn good thing the company’s so big that there’s no way they could listen to employee conversations.

Light at the end of the tunnel – if this plot works – really made my day. I can see my dream job doing a durty striptease before my eyes, and let me tell you, I like the way it looks. This news - which T. heard last night, I believe, might explain why my dreams centred around a particular man named Mud. Last night’s dreams were the friskiest I’ve ever had about him. He took the lead, for once, showing me that he wanted more. Damn, that was exciting. Too bad it wasn’t real life.