headache emission
Headachey & at the office again despite the fact that I stayed late last night in a futile attempt to avoid just this. I don't mind my job so much; in fact, there are many aspects about it which I like. The fact remains, however, that it steals chunks from days when I could be curled up in my flamboyant little dungeon with my journal, my McSweeney's comics, my writing & my daydreams, or maybe just my silly projects & obsessive nail-biting. And Vic Chesnutt, because that's who I'd like to serenade me during weeks like this. Tragic beautiful fucking human.
It's been a lovely week, despite my focus on the sad fact that being human is such a fucking dead-end. I try so hard to forget it, but sometimes conversations & observations tiptoe through my head and poke my consciousness just so, & the fact steals the stage & irks me with its prominence. I am not relationship material. I keep imagining weak assertions in my head, for example: "I feel incapable of maturely handling an intimate relationship." But I then look at my situation and realize that, no, I can handle such a bittersweet feat more maturely than many of those around me. The issue is the fact that I love my solitude so much. The space necessary to move around in that room of my own, possibly. The issues I face are not the standard relationship issues, not the jealousy/ lust/ compromise/ competition/ reciprocation / fear of intimacy factors, etc.--these things are things that we deal with fabulously--but the mere fact that I enjoy being alone, that I get restless, that I wonder, should I go to that grad program in Puerto Rico though I'm content (and even rather happy) here? Shall I enroll in that certification course for court interpreters & do that here in Nashville, where competition is small? Shall I scratch the M.A. thing and simply take off to Mexico for next summer, simply to polish my skills? We have spoken, he & I, about leaving the country this year. Or maybe just the state. We would do well with it, I think. I would love to stay in Mexico for an eyeblink together. But who the fuck knows? I noticed, the other day when I began thinking about getting a move on with the next step in life, I felt much better. When I remember my options, I feel refreshed. And yet, one fine day, I will have to stay somewhere and say, "Options, you look nice on my shelf & that's where you shall stay. I will remember you next time I dust the house." Or something. And yet I'm happy with my decision to be where I am, doing what I'm doing now. It's simply that I get so goddamn restless. Like, the CD is skipping or something.
I will scribble in more detail about my week in my actual journal I guess. Weird shit & lovely shit & hanging out with all of my siblings quite a bit & having conversations with old friends about the fallacy of monogamy & the equal complexity of both monogamy & the open relationship. Flexing my communication skills with old friends and new friends and boyfriend and so on. Resurrecting old stories & eating at expensive restaurants & watching my sweeties fall off the wagon & going out alone & remembering the long drives home alone at sunrise in Miami. Breathing in a good band and realizing yet again how much I love the people around me and feeling rather relaxed despite the restlessness. Having a clump in my throat because I've been thinking a lot about the women who carry the babies of phantom fathers lately. And stuff. My headache is going away.
It's been a lovely week, despite my focus on the sad fact that being human is such a fucking dead-end. I try so hard to forget it, but sometimes conversations & observations tiptoe through my head and poke my consciousness just so, & the fact steals the stage & irks me with its prominence. I am not relationship material. I keep imagining weak assertions in my head, for example: "I feel incapable of maturely handling an intimate relationship." But I then look at my situation and realize that, no, I can handle such a bittersweet feat more maturely than many of those around me. The issue is the fact that I love my solitude so much. The space necessary to move around in that room of my own, possibly. The issues I face are not the standard relationship issues, not the jealousy/ lust/ compromise/ competition/ reciprocation / fear of intimacy factors, etc.--these things are things that we deal with fabulously--but the mere fact that I enjoy being alone, that I get restless, that I wonder, should I go to that grad program in Puerto Rico though I'm content (and even rather happy) here? Shall I enroll in that certification course for court interpreters & do that here in Nashville, where competition is small? Shall I scratch the M.A. thing and simply take off to Mexico for next summer, simply to polish my skills? We have spoken, he & I, about leaving the country this year. Or maybe just the state. We would do well with it, I think. I would love to stay in Mexico for an eyeblink together. But who the fuck knows? I noticed, the other day when I began thinking about getting a move on with the next step in life, I felt much better. When I remember my options, I feel refreshed. And yet, one fine day, I will have to stay somewhere and say, "Options, you look nice on my shelf & that's where you shall stay. I will remember you next time I dust the house." Or something. And yet I'm happy with my decision to be where I am, doing what I'm doing now. It's simply that I get so goddamn restless. Like, the CD is skipping or something.
I will scribble in more detail about my week in my actual journal I guess. Weird shit & lovely shit & hanging out with all of my siblings quite a bit & having conversations with old friends about the fallacy of monogamy & the equal complexity of both monogamy & the open relationship. Flexing my communication skills with old friends and new friends and boyfriend and so on. Resurrecting old stories & eating at expensive restaurants & watching my sweeties fall off the wagon & going out alone & remembering the long drives home alone at sunrise in Miami. Breathing in a good band and realizing yet again how much I love the people around me and feeling rather relaxed despite the restlessness. Having a clump in my throat because I've been thinking a lot about the women who carry the babies of phantom fathers lately. And stuff. My headache is going away.