Packing is hard! I don’t want to do it!! I just want to live there without any of the work included, including moving there.
A new chapter of life isn’t written easily, or some philosophic bullshit.
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Been way too tired lately. Man, you would not believe how much time it took for me to remember that I had an app on my phone. I don’t have to log on online anywhere, just lovely, I love it.
Started reading All Systems Red: the Murderbot Diaries (note to add author) because I liked the show premise but not the show and I am enjoying the book
Good Night!
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I needed to get out of the house today so I did some walking. And now my hip feels tight. I logged back into that “sugar daddy’ dating website last night, and boy oh boy have things changed.
Change of topic, but I’m going to move down to Asheville, North Carolina, near the Appalachian trail. I think that’s the first time I wrote ‘I’m going to’ and not ‘I’m thinking of moving to.’ I was first thinking maybe somewhere in Virginia near the A.T. [Appalachian Trail] but I recently received confirmed that it still experiences cold and snow and I have grown to abhor the cold. I don’t mind being cold but I hate being forced to be cold.
I hate frost on my windshield, I hate shivering when walking to my car, I hate when it gets dark so goddamn early, it makes me depressed.
I am going to miss the hell out of my mother, and my dad. And I know my mom is going to miss me [and I’m sure my dad] but today or yesterday she asked ‘and you’re sure you want to move that far down south?’
Well I am really tired.
“Sharks don’t look back, because sharks don’t have necks.”
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Nothing looking to claw its way out of my chest and heart to expose itself on this website.
For now, to note, this blog exists in a stasis of sort.
“There are no rules.”
I’m going to get some sleep.
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Definitely way too tired to even begin to narrow things down. But to face the quandary of not writing anything, when I could just write about how I can’t write about anything.
Hey, if anyone ever wants to buy me a drink, I’ll take a Mexican mule, with two lime wedges.
My taste in beverages have skipped around since I’ve been ‘seriously’ drinking [as in, enough to determine if I like wine, v beer v whiskey, etc] Beer’s always been gross to me, wine has too many variations to be reliable, straight anything is gross, even on rocks.
For those unaware, a Mexican mule is tequila, lime juice, and ginger beer. With accompaniment of at minimum, for me, two lime wedges. A ‘spin[?]’ of the Moscow Mule, which has vodka.
Margaritas were always kinda good, but again, too much variety. Some frozen, or just on rocks. Some made to order, some batched. Unreliable.
Daiquiris are often too sweet, and not all bars have blenders. Thus unreliable.
It’s nice to have something reliable. My favorite used to be a Malibu bay breeze, but sometimes too sweet, and also just way too sweet to drink a lot of, and the ratio could be off. It’s nice to have something to order, it’s nice to have a regular thing, a known thing.
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I haven’t actually spoken to my friend in a good bit; it’s a noticeable absence in my life. Some friendships are hard to make, or like build and maintain, even same-sex friendships, with people that can and do see each other often. But opposite-sex, live in another time zone, another country, x,000 miles away, I was a fan of his music so it’s not quite the same as having a shared interest as the start to our friendship. There’s likely a few other things at play, too, but at first or second thought, those are the current factors.
Not in a depressing way – it makes a small part of my brain ask if I’m just not someone you want as a long[er]-term friend.
I know, or can strongly hope, that the reason we haven’t much talked is because he’s been spending time with his girlfriend, and not like I did or said something to like bother him or creep him out and I don’t even know, I don’t know.
Unrelated,^ thinking of no longer moving to New York.
Over the last five years, I lost three grandparents, and my best friend. I have to try and remind myself that life isn’t supposed to be that hard, so quick. Life isn’t supposed to be this hard in general. And I’m lucky enough to still have family, and some friends.
So it’s okay not to be doing great.^
Something’s got to change, and so have I.
“I haven’t dropped no eaves, sir, honest.”
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- Living in a world with mass-produced, mass-printed, high-quality, good books.
- My parents for instilling a love of reading in me.
- My friend, the diva.
- The Lord of the Rings movies, by Peter Jackson.
“And they call it a mine. A mine!”
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Things are getting weird at work. Things got weird with my friend. Things got weird with my friend with benefits [different friend].
I can’t lie, I have been thinking way too much about my one friend, I’ll call him B, for short. I know it’s a big internet and he won’t ever read this, so ‘B’ is going to have to do.
It feels odd not talking to him. We got close.
We would both be lying so straight up if we said the other wasn’t attractive. We know it, we’ve told each other, here and there, sporadically. And again we would be lying if we each didn’t 1) know and 2) tell each other we had qualities of people we like.
More than once, but not more than four times have I relistened to one of his audio messages, where he said, that I’m someone any guy would be lucky to have.
For reasons warranted, that won’t be delved into, I established early on that I didn’t want to date, or anything more than platonic with him. Considering our circumstances and physical inproximities, that might not have even been in the cards. [It was not as if he asked me to, to establish that.]
How dumb would it be for me to right now say, sometimes I’ve imagined kissing him?
“Why am I even writing this, or about this?”
“There are no rules.“
Well, anyway, a couple months ago he got a girlfriend, which is great. I am most happy for him. A few times, we’ve said ‘oh, we’ll catch up, soon’ but haven’t really. And of course I miss talking to/with him, but I mean, if I had a hot girlfriend, I’d probably be spending my time with her instead of messaging some girl across the world. [I haven’t seen a picture of her, but he seems the type to have a hot girlfriend]
Gosh it feels so cheesy to say that him and I come from different worlds, but that’s so spot on. Each and every way our lives could have been different, they practically have. He’s really opened up my world, it’s been life-changing getting to know him.
The good things about feelings and thoughts, and something I still have yet to learn and apply, is that they are often fleeting, and not real. So just because I’m having these feelings doesn’t mean he is. But then, but wait, there’s more! That doesn’t mean he’s not feeling the same way.
I am sure we’ll get in touch again soon, but for now, I’m leaving it to him. Last weekend I told him I have some days off, and asked if he wanted to catch up, to which he kind of just ignored, or stepped around. I guess better than a direct ‘no’ but I know that neither he, nor anyone else, owes me anything, even their time or tongue.
I just remember it feeling really good to stay up way too late at night with him, sending voice messages back and forth, spanning thousands of miles, round-trip, across several time zones.
It’s pointless to contemplate how he could feel about me. For a few reasons, like, it could change by the day, or he could feel nothing at all about me [that’s not true] [[that’s not true]], or I wouldn’t want to know, anyways. It doesn’t matter because it’s not my life.
I’m not thinking he’s thinking of kissing me, too. I’m only thinking, not hoping, he likes some part of me. Because I like some part of him.
Do I? Do I just miss his attention? No, I don’t think I miss his attention, I do just miss talking to him. I miss catching up. I miss having someone there, someone to give dumb nicknames to, someone I could laugh with, someone that could and would call me out, someone who could be gentle with me yet straight with me.
Believe it or not, I was not really thinking of B when I sat down to write, I don’t think. Isn’t that odd.
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After over two decades of reading, I have started my list of books I have read. It’s not worth thinking, ‘if you had started this when you first starting reading, you’d be able to go back and re-read books that brought you joy,’ BUT – since I am starting now, I’ll be able to look back decades from now, and feel that exact same way!
- Dark Places, Gillian Flynn
- Of all books to start with, this was great. More later. But I did start the list!
- Dark Places, Gillian Flynn
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What to do, what to do?
Comparatively, I did a lot today, I shoveled, for hours, to remove hundreds of cubic feet of snow, and most of my body is sore. I cleaned up the kitchen, I helped Mom get out the Christmas tree holder, I helped with the dog, I did some research on my job searching.
But it’s not even 6 PM yet, and I guess I am tired, but feeling a little void. Feelings like I don’t want to do anything. Depression?
Mayhaps. I can’t sit and do nothing for my entire life, I feel like I’ve been doing that up until now.
I did not sleep great last night, and I did a lot of shoveling and intense physical exercise. My feet hurt, my back soon hurts, my arms hurt. So it will be okay if I take it easier tonight.
Last night I felt at odds about staying at home, playing Stardew, hanging out with my parents. I love my parents, and I love hanging out with my Mom, and I love playing Stardew. But that can’t be every Saturday night of the decade of my life I call my thirties.
Knowing I have to make a change, feeling the effects of it, the potential energy. It’s taking an effect on me.
I wouldn’t be this anxious or restless if I didn’t know I can do great things, I can contribute to a better company, do more good.
Knowing I can go anywhere and do almost anything, and I’m in a good position to do so, and I have a good support system, I have some good friends.
I keep thinking that my mental state, the problem I’m trying to come over, this hurdle, it can be simply solved once I ‘figure out’ my life, when I start living it. And I’m sure I will feel better.
It’s not enough to know I’m not doing enough. I think feeling this way is a good sign, it’s a good little, ‘warning light,’ I suppose. Life is growing, and I am still growing and learning every day, I hope to learn and grow every day. Part of growing is being uncomfortable, and they say success is not a straight line. It’s still pointing up, looking up. A plateau is a good base to grow things up, to plant seeds. Build a good foundation. Have to start somewhere.
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Can never have enough prepositions, to be sure.
I was going to write about what I’m doing, and the combination of all things, and how, in theory, it should be great and rejuvenating for the soul. To sum up, watching LOTR, writing on my blog, safe and comfortable, living at home.
I know that a good life needs a good mix of comfortability and its opposite, I suppose, discomfort? A bit ago, I asked my friend for a tarot card reading, the first I’ve had, asked for, etc.. My question revolved around asking how to get in the ‘driver’s seat’ of my life. And the cards he pulled and the explanations he gave me, were very eye-opening. It’s hard to describe.
Truthfully, when he did the reading [it wasn’t in person, he lives across the pond] I absolutely wept. A simple mind shift occurred, but it truly did wonders. ‘Coasting’ through life, what I have felt most ‘guilty’ of, still requires one to be in the driver’s seat. I have not crashed the car. I’m in the car, on this godforsaken mortal coil [it’s a goddamned pyramid scheme! with Frank right in the middle of it!]
Is it common to re-read blog posts as you’re typing? I would not wish anxiety upon anyone, but perhaps, there may be a select few. Good night.
DEADPENNY (in the Mortal Coil) 