(no subject)
Oh. Hello, LiveJournal. Still around?
We've drifted apart. It's my fault, you know. I was doing a lot of traveling and a lot of loving and not a lot of writing. I guess I could update you. Concisely, yes?
I fell in love. At the end of 2009 and by the beginning of 2010 I had a boyfriend. 10 High. Oh man, the love was big. I thought that I'd marry him. He was the best.
But he became a Merchant Marine and was gone a lot, way too much for me to handle, and my heart broke. So on December 6, 2012, after almost 3 years together, I ended it.
At the beginning of January I moved out of our house. Now I'm couchsurfing with friends, and I am so, so fortunate and thankful for that.
I'm also desperately hunting for an editing/publishing job in Colorado. I want to live in Colorado, dammit! 10 High never did. But I don't have to make decisions based on what he wants anymore. So I'll move to Colorado.
####
Sometimes there's something beyond feeling like a failure, something that's worse. Because if you're a failure then at least at some point you had balls, you had guts, and you tried. You did it. But if you're a quitter then that's some other level of pathetic. Ladled with inertia and apathy and quit and self-repulsion and nothing else.
And I'm good at quitting. I quit college. I quit theater after high school. I quit horseback riding. I quit reading on a daily basis. I quit riding bicycles. I quit college again. I quit writing. I quit calling my father.
But I'm writing again, or at least I'm trying to. I miss it. I think that I used to have a knack for it. I could work on that again. I've been inspired. A friend of a friend was having a book of his poetry published. He was stressing about editing and revising and I mentioned that I used to do that. I said that I'd be happy to help out. With a smile of skepticism, he accepted and a few days later we sat down. For 8 hours we sat at his kitchen table, me with my red pen, him with his stress-hands running through his hair. And at the end, we had his book. Edited, redacted, perfected. With a sigh of relief and pride and adrenaline, I smoked a cigarette for the first time in two weeks.
And that was how I quit quitting.
I'm in Kentucky.
Yes. Really. Kentucky. I never thought that I'd end up here.
It's been a while, hasn't it, LJ? See, the thing is that I've been doing LOTS and LOTS of traveling for the past year and a half and Internet is often unavailable, or only available very briefly.
Tomorrow is Halloween; tonight is the party. 10 High and I are going out. He's playing a blues show. I'm going as Carmen San Diego, which seems hugely appropriate.
As we were driving around town yesterday, I asked him what he said when people wondered how long we'd been together. He didn't think he'd been asked that question, and jokingly said, "A few days," since I just flew in a few days ago. But really it's been more like 8 months.
This is the first time I've ever been happy to be in a relationship for so long. This is the first time I haven't lost interest by now. This is the first time when I don't feel the need to "grin and bear it".
Why? Why is this the first time that I've really been interested? I have lots of speculation. We both travel and are apart fairly frequently, which really helps us to treasure our time together. I think that our lack of monogamy keeps us both keen on each other, and perpetually challenged, even though I don't think either of us act on our open-ness very much. We teach each other a lot. We both do a lot of learning and listening.
And? I like his music. A lot. Can I just tell you what a fucking difference that makes?
We've drifted apart. It's my fault, you know. I was doing a lot of traveling and a lot of loving and not a lot of writing. I guess I could update you. Concisely, yes?
I fell in love. At the end of 2009 and by the beginning of 2010 I had a boyfriend. 10 High. Oh man, the love was big. I thought that I'd marry him. He was the best.
But he became a Merchant Marine and was gone a lot, way too much for me to handle, and my heart broke. So on December 6, 2012, after almost 3 years together, I ended it.
At the beginning of January I moved out of our house. Now I'm couchsurfing with friends, and I am so, so fortunate and thankful for that.
I'm also desperately hunting for an editing/publishing job in Colorado. I want to live in Colorado, dammit! 10 High never did. But I don't have to make decisions based on what he wants anymore. So I'll move to Colorado.
####
Sometimes there's something beyond feeling like a failure, something that's worse. Because if you're a failure then at least at some point you had balls, you had guts, and you tried. You did it. But if you're a quitter then that's some other level of pathetic. Ladled with inertia and apathy and quit and self-repulsion and nothing else.
And I'm good at quitting. I quit college. I quit theater after high school. I quit horseback riding. I quit reading on a daily basis. I quit riding bicycles. I quit college again. I quit writing. I quit calling my father.
But I'm writing again, or at least I'm trying to. I miss it. I think that I used to have a knack for it. I could work on that again. I've been inspired. A friend of a friend was having a book of his poetry published. He was stressing about editing and revising and I mentioned that I used to do that. I said that I'd be happy to help out. With a smile of skepticism, he accepted and a few days later we sat down. For 8 hours we sat at his kitchen table, me with my red pen, him with his stress-hands running through his hair. And at the end, we had his book. Edited, redacted, perfected. With a sigh of relief and pride and adrenaline, I smoked a cigarette for the first time in two weeks.
And that was how I quit quitting.
I'm in Kentucky.
Yes. Really. Kentucky. I never thought that I'd end up here.
It's been a while, hasn't it, LJ? See, the thing is that I've been doing LOTS and LOTS of traveling for the past year and a half and Internet is often unavailable, or only available very briefly.
Tomorrow is Halloween; tonight is the party. 10 High and I are going out. He's playing a blues show. I'm going as Carmen San Diego, which seems hugely appropriate.
As we were driving around town yesterday, I asked him what he said when people wondered how long we'd been together. He didn't think he'd been asked that question, and jokingly said, "A few days," since I just flew in a few days ago. But really it's been more like 8 months.
This is the first time I've ever been happy to be in a relationship for so long. This is the first time I haven't lost interest by now. This is the first time when I don't feel the need to "grin and bear it".
Why? Why is this the first time that I've really been interested? I have lots of speculation. We both travel and are apart fairly frequently, which really helps us to treasure our time together. I think that our lack of monogamy keeps us both keen on each other, and perpetually challenged, even though I don't think either of us act on our open-ness very much. We teach each other a lot. We both do a lot of learning and listening.
And? I like his music. A lot. Can I just tell you what a fucking difference that makes?