i have a note here that says 'negotiations at work went well'. sadly, i haven't the foggiest idea what that means. so much of work has been balancing give and take of resources and goals that pretty much every day is about negotiation. what was different about today, i don't recall.
not pretty to watch the workings of a decrepit mind, is it? ;)
the mind is not the only thing that's decrepit. i'm a little sore from going to the club last night; standing in Doc Martens for 4 or 5 hours may look very hip, but it wears out the feet. and of course, today is no better, because i'm thinking about going out to flirt with this cutie that i've been watching. so i put on a pair of black leather slides; they're that woven sort of thing, and very nice looking. but man oh man, they hurt like a ... well, we won't go into that. let's just say they don't fit quite as well now that i have the requisite bandaids on. note to self: remember to mosturize. dry feet aren't sexy.
however, i think i'll still go out and flirt, because i need cheering up. i can't even be a good friend right now, because i'm so caught up in my own shit.
i'm trying, though. i talked to mom today for a little bit. she asked how things were going, and i started to wallow a bit - about how i'm worried about my friend in the hospital, and struggling with my friendship with earl, and ... i heard her start to be very sad. so i switched modes, and tried to be the storyteller, the entertainer, looking for the silver lining or talking about any old thing.
here's a sign of how not normal things are: i have the urge to call my ex husband. i haven't given him any thought for years. just not there anymore. but i wanted to call him recently to see how roger is doing. see, his dad works for the post office, or did, at any rate, when i last checked. and i want to know that roger is okay. i don't need to talk to him; there doesn't need to be a big reunion. i just want to check in and see that he's okay. because too many people in my life are not okay right now.
and if you know how i feel about fritz, you'll know just exactly not normal that all is.
i need to find a way to deal with this stress. i need to pick a yoga class and start going, at least that once a week, to stretch and meditate and come back into my body. balance, little cricket... there's a conference coming up in town soon. it looks enticing: two days of body work, yoga, aroma therapy, holistic medicines, classes and demonstrations and stuff for sale. i think i'll check out at least one day of it. i need to find some resources to put some structure and spirituality back in my life.
also, as i've mentioned a few times, i'm rethinking the journal. for the past year, it's been a combination therapy outlet/writing exercise/place to record my life. last month, i did exactly no collabs. i was also very bad and didn't send a note to opt out. i let all the chaos overwhelm me, and there was too much going on mentally. i couldn't get out of my head enough to tackle any of the topics. but i need to get back into that.
i need to get back into that because i want to stretch as a writer. i need to get back to the collabs because i made a commitment to each of those groups. and i need to balance things. given recent events, people are desiring a little more anonymity. (also, there was that little incident with The Boy.) i don't agree with all of their reasons. but i don't need to. i do respect the requests, and i have no desire to assert myself to the point of harming friendships. friends are the single most valuable thing in life.
however. while i will respect the requests, part of me is smarting. why should i have to censor my life? i don't say anything here that i wouldn't say in real life. i'm not saying i have the right to describe the contents of a friend's underwear drawer just because i know what's in there. that's not right. and this journal is a very select facet of my life and my self. there is so much that never sees the light of day (virtually) here. so there's already a degree of self censorship.
i'm explaining myself poorly. and perhaps i shouldn't be trying to explain it at all. maybe it's enough just to say that i want to develop as a writer, work on developing ideas, become more of a wordsmith.
i picked up a writer's prompt box, The Autobiography Box, ages and ages ago. it's been sitting on the shelf, to the right of my desk at home. i look at it every so often. it's a pretty box, red and black with a duotone print of an old Underwood on the cover. i need to open it up, shuffle thru the cards, and start tackling those ideas one at a time, wrestling out the right phrases, polishing the sentences, turning out writing. i'm most proud of my fiction efforts in the last year, and i need to get back to that, so i can feel more satisfied with my own work.
plus, i'm starting to feel itchy about housekeeping around here, too. i want to redo the blog, because i am deeply unsatisfied with the archiving structure. that's gonna take some work. i want to redo the layout, tinker with domains, add some new features, clean up some old odds and ends. how is it that i'm feeling the need for electronic spring cleaning in the fall? i have this all backwards, it seems.so... so yeah. that's where i am these days. i want to feel like i'm in control of my writing, because so much else is chaotic. so i'll be tweaking things around a bit, soonish, i hope. come back, won't you, to see how things shape up?