Propelled Shyte at High Velocity
They say, "when it rains it pours." Screw that. When shit hits the fan, it not only gets propelled around the room at high velocity, it also will usually manage to douse you in the process.
That would be where I am right now. Faire last weekend? Began amazingly, with Top Gun and the costume gig involved Thrusday evening. Introducing a Faire buddy to my Crew. Spending the day with said friend all Friday, as well as thoroughly enjoying the energy and Faire charisma he brought to CalShakes when he went to work with me Friday night. (The Box Office became Faire for the evening, I swear to God.) And then we loaded the van with him, myself, Double-D, Isaac and Hobbit, and headed south at 75 mph towards Casa with music blaring, off-key singing, laughter and Shameless filming part of the journey.
It began well.
Saturday was grey and foggy and overcast, and the exhaustion that had hit Friday night hadn't gone away. Enter the wonder of the manic-depressive flareup, that emotional bounce you can't control that has a mind of its own. For the first time all season, I didn't get in Garb all day. I went on site to drop off the gold and the money, check the booth and the cart, and I went back to bed. Later that afternoon, I left site. I WENT OFF SITE DURING HOURS, and not for entertainment or cuddling purposes. I went on a mini-road trip to Salinas with a good friend to get geared up for Black and Pearls and to escape whatever was weighing so heavily on me.
The talks we great, the music good as usual. Depeche Mode, NIN, Manson, etc. I ended up in tears while driving during a specific song, and the heavy weight didn't leave after the effect of the song did. The evening brightened slightly as all of site got ready for B&P, but even that wasn't the joy it usually was. The fact I didn't have to sleep in a tent all weekend didn't mean as much as it should have either.
Sunday was no better; it actually started drizzling. For the first time in my career history at Faire, I was drunk as a skunk during hours. I was laughing at silliness because it distracted me, spent more time than I want to admit to in tears behind Oberon talking with friends. My dear Shameless had no better a day by the end of it, not did Double-D and many others. Even the entertainment of the evening that ensued (getting Shameless Gothed out to go to dinner at Casa de Goddammit, the party in the trailer that went into the wee hours of the morning, the continuation the next day)...none of it registered the way it should. Drama drama drama. Rollercoastering emotions, the annoyance of feeling exhausted even after BEYOND enough sleep that weekend and knowing it wasn't physical, knowing what emotional fuckup caused it.
Knowing I couldn't change it and yet still finding myself worrying about a friend suffering the same problem if not worse, and worrying about variables and possible outcomes that shouldn't even be considered this early on.
Finding myself actively hiding from reality, from returning home and dealing with the shitstorm awaiting me. I drank WAY too much Sunday and Monday, and it didn't phase me. Smoked more than I should have, and it didn't cheer me. I found myself repeatedly withdrawing my attention into my own little world, mulling over what was stressing me out and could I fix it. Could I change it. Did I have the right to be stressed or upset by it. Was I a fool, had I been in denial this whole time. Was I setting myself up for another fall; was I causing the repeat of a pattern from two years ago or was I merely frightened of the similarities and thereby overreacting.
Questioning my worth and related issues. Whether I am really that good in bed, or whether they've all merely been kissing my ass. Whether I can trust "I love you" ever again and whether I trusted my instincts incorrectly. Whether what I saw and felt at the beginning of the season was not what I thought it was, whether I had subconsciously deluded myself into seeing something or someone that wasn't actually there. Whether I had been seeing my own self correctly.
It is early Wednesday morning, and Hell is still raging. I'll get through it and be all right eventually as I always am. Opportuinities I never thought would be a positive choice have fallen in my lap, and now I merely have to struggle through the crap so I can get to them. The heavy depressive weight still rests on my chest, as does the panic and anxiety waiting just beyond the doorstep for that final straw. Life tipped sideways; friends are helping albeit slowly, and I am finding myself trying to balance on my own two feet in the interim. There is no escape a la Top Gun this week, but there is work at Faire for me this weekend. My phone is back, but the person I want to talk to the most is not reachable...and the downside being that I enjoyed the near-daily calls and the perfect timing that made me laugh.
Those appear to be gone, at least for the time being. Happens when one gets busy and is enjoying themselves in their local area and not plodding through the week looking forwasrd to Friday. I just very much dislike "I promise I'll call later tonight" when it doesn't happen, and when for some reason I feel they never actually intended to call later tonight in the first place.
I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I know there is good shit waiting after going through Hell. But in the meantime, it sucks ass. I know the fears and anxieties I am dealing with are most likely overreactions, and yet they still hurt and upset me. (No I am not going to go into detail about them; they are my own problems I need to deal with on my own.) I believe things will be okay in the end, that perhaps I might even get what I desire this time around on more than one front.
And the pessimist in me laughs at that foolish hope and reminds me that patterns exist for a reason and are not likely to change. That the short end of the stick will be passed to me yet again and I just need to learn to live with that. That hope is foolish. To expect to lose in the end, because that is what always happens.
And amidst all the turmoil, some little part of me keeps repeating to ignore the bullshit, that this Faire season happened for a reason, as did everything surrounding and involved in it. That I was there Opening Weeknd for a reason. That people who are there this year (or not) has a purpose. That things done and things said were meant to happen. That the answer lies at the end of the season and I need to be patient and wait for it to reveal itself. That I can trust and have faith in others and what they tell me, that I am not automatically being lied to, led on or used. That the trust I cannot help placing where I have placed it was not done in vain, that I see something others can't yet. That this is a season of change for the better, of doors opening and second chances being given. The opportunity to right past mistakes, to finally know what was never said or was hidden.
That there is something special about the happenings of late, and that they are setting the stage for what is to come on all fronts. That stubborn faith does eventually yield the results you see if you believe hard enough. That fear is the enemy of everything and usually the cause of ruin. That stepping blindly off that comfortable branch may not lead to the "inevitable" long drop to the hard ground below.
(That insomnia, stress and caffeine mixed with back pain apparently makes me poetic and prone to artistic-ish comparisons. BTW, that is not the word I was trying to use, but for the life of me the one I wanted refused to move forward off the tip of my tongue and into coherency.)
Again I lapse into rambling. Grr. I want it to be Friday already, time for Faire and 5th weekend, and yet part of me is anxious about it. The fast changes of last weekend make me wonder if this weekend is going to again slide downward into drama and negativity and emotional turmoil, or if it is going to the opposite direction and go back towards the awe and magic of the first three weekends. Sixth begind with Friday the 13th, and all the major changes I face will come to a head that weekend and the week that follows.
Next weekend stands an even chance of being along the lines of the amazement of the first three or sliding further down the slope of last week towards ending this season on a more negative note than 2005 did.
Crossing my fingers and my daggers that it returns to the magic we saw at the beginning. That this end of the old Celtic year leads into a great new year leading up to Samhain. Faire has always marked the beginning and the ending of my years, and I do not want a repeat of the pain of late 2005 through Autumn 2006. The good should always be even to the bad at the least, and ought to outweigh it. 2004 acheived that, even with the way Faire (and James) ended that year. At the time I wasn't able to realize that Faire's ending was a chance in disguise; something I saw in hindsight. That the dramas of this summer were giving a chance (or a set of chances) to change things for the better. To not always hesitate as well as to not always believe an emotional overreaction to be fact. They were a reminder that my ability to trust my instincts and someone in general needs to not pivot on a specific person who may prove in the end to not handle nor live up to that trust. That I can place my trust carefully--precariously, rather--where it feels right, and not be terrified constantly that I made the wrong decision. That listening to my parents cost me money, sanity and was the real mistake. That you cannot truly advise someone on what's best for them unless you can understand them (hence, rely on your intuition not what others tell you to do). That Faire saved my life three times, and I need to not forget that. That my sanity is more valuable than my wallet or credit in the long run.
That everything happens for a reason. I need to calm down and let the chips fall where they're headed and work from there; that trying to see the outcome early or direct it where I think it should go will drive me insane and ultimately fail in the end.
That my life is a damn set of movies, and I need to start shooting soon and not get lost in the rat race this time.
Anyone want on this bandwagon?
(I should probably read this for continuity and whether it sounds like the ravings of a madman or not. LOL.)
It'll be Friday soon...:)
lone gunman
That would be where I am right now. Faire last weekend? Began amazingly, with Top Gun and the costume gig involved Thrusday evening. Introducing a Faire buddy to my Crew. Spending the day with said friend all Friday, as well as thoroughly enjoying the energy and Faire charisma he brought to CalShakes when he went to work with me Friday night. (The Box Office became Faire for the evening, I swear to God.) And then we loaded the van with him, myself, Double-D, Isaac and Hobbit, and headed south at 75 mph towards Casa with music blaring, off-key singing, laughter and Shameless filming part of the journey.
It began well.
Saturday was grey and foggy and overcast, and the exhaustion that had hit Friday night hadn't gone away. Enter the wonder of the manic-depressive flareup, that emotional bounce you can't control that has a mind of its own. For the first time all season, I didn't get in Garb all day. I went on site to drop off the gold and the money, check the booth and the cart, and I went back to bed. Later that afternoon, I left site. I WENT OFF SITE DURING HOURS, and not for entertainment or cuddling purposes. I went on a mini-road trip to Salinas with a good friend to get geared up for Black and Pearls and to escape whatever was weighing so heavily on me.
The talks we great, the music good as usual. Depeche Mode, NIN, Manson, etc. I ended up in tears while driving during a specific song, and the heavy weight didn't leave after the effect of the song did. The evening brightened slightly as all of site got ready for B&P, but even that wasn't the joy it usually was. The fact I didn't have to sleep in a tent all weekend didn't mean as much as it should have either.
Sunday was no better; it actually started drizzling. For the first time in my career history at Faire, I was drunk as a skunk during hours. I was laughing at silliness because it distracted me, spent more time than I want to admit to in tears behind Oberon talking with friends. My dear Shameless had no better a day by the end of it, not did Double-D and many others. Even the entertainment of the evening that ensued (getting Shameless Gothed out to go to dinner at Casa de Goddammit, the party in the trailer that went into the wee hours of the morning, the continuation the next day)...none of it registered the way it should. Drama drama drama. Rollercoastering emotions, the annoyance of feeling exhausted even after BEYOND enough sleep that weekend and knowing it wasn't physical, knowing what emotional fuckup caused it.
Knowing I couldn't change it and yet still finding myself worrying about a friend suffering the same problem if not worse, and worrying about variables and possible outcomes that shouldn't even be considered this early on.
Finding myself actively hiding from reality, from returning home and dealing with the shitstorm awaiting me. I drank WAY too much Sunday and Monday, and it didn't phase me. Smoked more than I should have, and it didn't cheer me. I found myself repeatedly withdrawing my attention into my own little world, mulling over what was stressing me out and could I fix it. Could I change it. Did I have the right to be stressed or upset by it. Was I a fool, had I been in denial this whole time. Was I setting myself up for another fall; was I causing the repeat of a pattern from two years ago or was I merely frightened of the similarities and thereby overreacting.
Questioning my worth and related issues. Whether I am really that good in bed, or whether they've all merely been kissing my ass. Whether I can trust "I love you" ever again and whether I trusted my instincts incorrectly. Whether what I saw and felt at the beginning of the season was not what I thought it was, whether I had subconsciously deluded myself into seeing something or someone that wasn't actually there. Whether I had been seeing my own self correctly.
It is early Wednesday morning, and Hell is still raging. I'll get through it and be all right eventually as I always am. Opportuinities I never thought would be a positive choice have fallen in my lap, and now I merely have to struggle through the crap so I can get to them. The heavy depressive weight still rests on my chest, as does the panic and anxiety waiting just beyond the doorstep for that final straw. Life tipped sideways; friends are helping albeit slowly, and I am finding myself trying to balance on my own two feet in the interim. There is no escape a la Top Gun this week, but there is work at Faire for me this weekend. My phone is back, but the person I want to talk to the most is not reachable...and the downside being that I enjoyed the near-daily calls and the perfect timing that made me laugh.
Those appear to be gone, at least for the time being. Happens when one gets busy and is enjoying themselves in their local area and not plodding through the week looking forwasrd to Friday. I just very much dislike "I promise I'll call later tonight" when it doesn't happen, and when for some reason I feel they never actually intended to call later tonight in the first place.
I know there is light at the end of the tunnel, and I know there is good shit waiting after going through Hell. But in the meantime, it sucks ass. I know the fears and anxieties I am dealing with are most likely overreactions, and yet they still hurt and upset me. (No I am not going to go into detail about them; they are my own problems I need to deal with on my own.) I believe things will be okay in the end, that perhaps I might even get what I desire this time around on more than one front.
And the pessimist in me laughs at that foolish hope and reminds me that patterns exist for a reason and are not likely to change. That the short end of the stick will be passed to me yet again and I just need to learn to live with that. That hope is foolish. To expect to lose in the end, because that is what always happens.
And amidst all the turmoil, some little part of me keeps repeating to ignore the bullshit, that this Faire season happened for a reason, as did everything surrounding and involved in it. That I was there Opening Weeknd for a reason. That people who are there this year (or not) has a purpose. That things done and things said were meant to happen. That the answer lies at the end of the season and I need to be patient and wait for it to reveal itself. That I can trust and have faith in others and what they tell me, that I am not automatically being lied to, led on or used. That the trust I cannot help placing where I have placed it was not done in vain, that I see something others can't yet. That this is a season of change for the better, of doors opening and second chances being given. The opportunity to right past mistakes, to finally know what was never said or was hidden.
That there is something special about the happenings of late, and that they are setting the stage for what is to come on all fronts. That stubborn faith does eventually yield the results you see if you believe hard enough. That fear is the enemy of everything and usually the cause of ruin. That stepping blindly off that comfortable branch may not lead to the "inevitable" long drop to the hard ground below.
(That insomnia, stress and caffeine mixed with back pain apparently makes me poetic and prone to artistic-ish comparisons. BTW, that is not the word I was trying to use, but for the life of me the one I wanted refused to move forward off the tip of my tongue and into coherency.)
Again I lapse into rambling. Grr. I want it to be Friday already, time for Faire and 5th weekend, and yet part of me is anxious about it. The fast changes of last weekend make me wonder if this weekend is going to again slide downward into drama and negativity and emotional turmoil, or if it is going to the opposite direction and go back towards the awe and magic of the first three weekends. Sixth begind with Friday the 13th, and all the major changes I face will come to a head that weekend and the week that follows.
Next weekend stands an even chance of being along the lines of the amazement of the first three or sliding further down the slope of last week towards ending this season on a more negative note than 2005 did.
Crossing my fingers and my daggers that it returns to the magic we saw at the beginning. That this end of the old Celtic year leads into a great new year leading up to Samhain. Faire has always marked the beginning and the ending of my years, and I do not want a repeat of the pain of late 2005 through Autumn 2006. The good should always be even to the bad at the least, and ought to outweigh it. 2004 acheived that, even with the way Faire (and James) ended that year. At the time I wasn't able to realize that Faire's ending was a chance in disguise; something I saw in hindsight. That the dramas of this summer were giving a chance (or a set of chances) to change things for the better. To not always hesitate as well as to not always believe an emotional overreaction to be fact. They were a reminder that my ability to trust my instincts and someone in general needs to not pivot on a specific person who may prove in the end to not handle nor live up to that trust. That I can place my trust carefully--precariously, rather--where it feels right, and not be terrified constantly that I made the wrong decision. That listening to my parents cost me money, sanity and was the real mistake. That you cannot truly advise someone on what's best for them unless you can understand them (hence, rely on your intuition not what others tell you to do). That Faire saved my life three times, and I need to not forget that. That my sanity is more valuable than my wallet or credit in the long run.
That everything happens for a reason. I need to calm down and let the chips fall where they're headed and work from there; that trying to see the outcome early or direct it where I think it should go will drive me insane and ultimately fail in the end.
That my life is a damn set of movies, and I need to start shooting soon and not get lost in the rat race this time.
Anyone want on this bandwagon?
(I should probably read this for continuity and whether it sounds like the ravings of a madman or not. LOL.)
It'll be Friday soon...:)
lone gunman