schizophrenic mouth harp
Alright. Writing has been difficult lately due to a number of factors, none the least of which is that my computer is little more than a dust magnet for the time being, a monolithic dust bunny incubator, until I get those fans whirring again. Also, if I do write, there's this little poison called 'negativity' which is currently lacing the tips of my fingers like New Guinean blow darts, and quite frankly I've had enough of the doleful bowlful. I'm sure you as well. So, some positives first (what, you thought you'd be spared completely?). Let's see...
Being introduced to Doctor Who via the Netflix & Xbox unlimited streaming dealie is lots of fun, as we burrow our asses into bed every night with dreams of time traveling to distant curiosities.
It's December, so that means holiday music is hittin' me up all pop and fresh from the speakers, dancing through the red in my eyes like a mint-stingy candycane - however, the soul station plays this one song that's a gruff voice caroling "they call me backdoor Santa" with little kids and women repeating after him which is pretty much the best wrong thing I've ever heard.
I've been flexing my culinary skills to great effect.
I've stopped drinking and am getting more exercise. It must be a side effect of some irascible need to be in control of something during difficult times, but it's far better than slovenly stewing in my lugubriousness.
Our temporary winter digs are small but congenial. We like them. Part of the reason? All our shit is in storage and thankfully unable to suffocate us. I've really lost all sentimentality to inanimate objects and their histories.
So, the bad news is that the business isn't doing well. People seem to lose the appetite for luxury bath and body care items during recessions and all. If we close the retail store, it's not like that's the end - we have our wholesale manufacturing as well as Theresa's stores. But it's likely the end of my involvement. I'm too jaded about this industry to keep going at this point, too flummoxed being a business partner, and I find the spuriousness of this town a little too untenable.
The shiny bright happy fun side to this anabasis means finally exorcising myself from Colorado, which we'd been planning to do for a long time with being tethered to the business our only obstacle. Unfortunately I'm not quite sure how to do it, empty a manufacturing facility, retail store, and then our own personal affects that are currently nesting in two separate storage units, to eventually move out of state? The mere thought presents so many logistical problems that I begin having heart palpitations.
The other problem is whether or not I continue sinking my savings into this place until after winter season which is when we'd do the majority of our business anyway - it's a chance, but if I run out of money, I'll likely have none to move with to the state of our choice.
December, the busiest shopping month of the year, so far feels like October. Whereas last year I made a nice profit, with previous years having me turn this place around once I wrested control from the partners, this current year seems an inevitability, and a great sting to all the time and effort I've sunk into it. Seven years with pretty much nothing to show for it, outside of a few acquaintances and a job I could be proud of - but I'm not sure that's enough to endure what I did, only to have it end so... ignominiously.
I really have no idea what to do, my insides feel like cold slush, and I suspect I'm just numbly wading through a hostile reality despite all the damage I'm doing to myself - this must be what a drug addict feels like. The business and all my roots here have got a hold on me, despite my lack enjoyment and all the harm and the faint vestige of control I know I have, I feel held hostage by the aegis of a past I despise.
All the emo bullshit aside, though - I know full well things often get worse before they get better, and this is just part of the process, one tiny iota in the flailing ataxia of my future.
Being introduced to Doctor Who via the Netflix & Xbox unlimited streaming dealie is lots of fun, as we burrow our asses into bed every night with dreams of time traveling to distant curiosities.
It's December, so that means holiday music is hittin' me up all pop and fresh from the speakers, dancing through the red in my eyes like a mint-stingy candycane - however, the soul station plays this one song that's a gruff voice caroling "they call me backdoor Santa" with little kids and women repeating after him which is pretty much the best wrong thing I've ever heard.
I've been flexing my culinary skills to great effect.
I've stopped drinking and am getting more exercise. It must be a side effect of some irascible need to be in control of something during difficult times, but it's far better than slovenly stewing in my lugubriousness.
Our temporary winter digs are small but congenial. We like them. Part of the reason? All our shit is in storage and thankfully unable to suffocate us. I've really lost all sentimentality to inanimate objects and their histories.
So, the bad news is that the business isn't doing well. People seem to lose the appetite for luxury bath and body care items during recessions and all. If we close the retail store, it's not like that's the end - we have our wholesale manufacturing as well as Theresa's stores. But it's likely the end of my involvement. I'm too jaded about this industry to keep going at this point, too flummoxed being a business partner, and I find the spuriousness of this town a little too untenable.
The shiny bright happy fun side to this anabasis means finally exorcising myself from Colorado, which we'd been planning to do for a long time with being tethered to the business our only obstacle. Unfortunately I'm not quite sure how to do it, empty a manufacturing facility, retail store, and then our own personal affects that are currently nesting in two separate storage units, to eventually move out of state? The mere thought presents so many logistical problems that I begin having heart palpitations.
The other problem is whether or not I continue sinking my savings into this place until after winter season which is when we'd do the majority of our business anyway - it's a chance, but if I run out of money, I'll likely have none to move with to the state of our choice.
December, the busiest shopping month of the year, so far feels like October. Whereas last year I made a nice profit, with previous years having me turn this place around once I wrested control from the partners, this current year seems an inevitability, and a great sting to all the time and effort I've sunk into it. Seven years with pretty much nothing to show for it, outside of a few acquaintances and a job I could be proud of - but I'm not sure that's enough to endure what I did, only to have it end so... ignominiously.
I really have no idea what to do, my insides feel like cold slush, and I suspect I'm just numbly wading through a hostile reality despite all the damage I'm doing to myself - this must be what a drug addict feels like. The business and all my roots here have got a hold on me, despite my lack enjoyment and all the harm and the faint vestige of control I know I have, I feel held hostage by the aegis of a past I despise.
All the emo bullshit aside, though - I know full well things often get worse before they get better, and this is just part of the process, one tiny iota in the flailing ataxia of my future.