Frustration
Sometimes I just don't get where the roller coaster of my life is going. Yesterday, I felt I had a rather good day all around. I finished the paper, sent it off to Tom (my boss) and got another interview offer. Swell, right? I run the tightest ship possible for Sierra Club meeting and manage to keep the old folks on task and get done by 9:15 to race down to Philly for a show and to meet up with Evan. So why today to I feel all lost and out of sorts? I know why, I think and these are just a few of the reasons and I need to air them.
I'm exhausted, because I didn't get home until 2a. And I drank too much. Not sloppy-drunk-too much, just unhappy body and tummy-too much, just I'm old-too much. And I had a good time. Mostly. But what am I doing with this boy? I'm out of sorts because I just don't know. I remind myself of the realities of the situation (his and mine) and my natural instinct is to hold back a bit (okay, a lot), I don't want to put too much out there on the line. High expectiations typically lead to disappointment in my book. But he calls me. He's not just being polite, I think. He wants to go out for a ride again this weekend. We're adults, right? This isn't high school. WHAT is this? Not knowing is fun and exhilarating, but it also squeezes my heart a little.
And it is likely that my cat has cancer. Some sort of myeloma. And I can only cry when write that, because I don't know what to do about it. And it pains me greatly.
And I told my boss and all he said was "well you can pay a lot of money to treat her or send her to her maker and get another kitten." Who the fuck says that? On top of ignoring the draft I sent him and not giving a shit about my getting another interview.
Well, I ought to collect myself and get home in preparation for the arrival of Whovians. Crying and typing at your computer draws looks in the coffee shop.
I'm exhausted, because I didn't get home until 2a. And I drank too much. Not sloppy-drunk-too much, just unhappy body and tummy-too much, just I'm old-too much. And I had a good time. Mostly. But what am I doing with this boy? I'm out of sorts because I just don't know. I remind myself of the realities of the situation (his and mine) and my natural instinct is to hold back a bit (okay, a lot), I don't want to put too much out there on the line. High expectiations typically lead to disappointment in my book. But he calls me. He's not just being polite, I think. He wants to go out for a ride again this weekend. We're adults, right? This isn't high school. WHAT is this? Not knowing is fun and exhilarating, but it also squeezes my heart a little.
And it is likely that my cat has cancer. Some sort of myeloma. And I can only cry when write that, because I don't know what to do about it. And it pains me greatly.
And I told my boss and all he said was "well you can pay a lot of money to treat her or send her to her maker and get another kitten." Who the fuck says that? On top of ignoring the draft I sent him and not giving a shit about my getting another interview.
Well, I ought to collect myself and get home in preparation for the arrival of Whovians. Crying and typing at your computer draws looks in the coffee shop.