I have tried, for most of the day, to compose something. Anything.

No luck. Well, it's not luck is it? It's the fact that I'm swimming in this black morass in my head. Well, not exactly swimming, since this black goo is hardly liquid enough for that.. its more viscous. Was that a skeleton? Cripes, seems I'm not the only one who's been here.

Work is... well, work. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by some of it at the moment, but I think that once I get the basic things into a routine I can deal with the monkey wrenches better. It just seems these days that everything is breaking. Phone lines, air conditioning, you name it. And then the difficult customers and I am the only one able to do the work. And then I come home and there's still more to do.

J got angry with me last night because I didn't dry the last few things when I did the dishes. Nor did I finish washing the little sticker things for corn on the cob because they are made of that horrible plastic stuff that just holds grease like nothing and I wanted them to soak. He told me he 'felt like a maid' because he had to finish what I started all the time. Normally this would spark an argument. I'd get angry and tell him just how stupid I thought that was or something but I couldn't even summon the energy to retort. In fact I had to try not to laugh. In the face of all the things he says he'll do, and then doesn't it just seemed so bloody ridiculous.

I did ask him how his day was, even though I had told myself I wouldn't because I knew what the answer would be: inevitably something along the lines of "Crappy", "Shitty", or "people are idiots". I'd asked him a few months ago if he could at least try to tell me one positive thing about his day and he was good for about two weeks. I don't understand why the hell it's so fucking hard for him. I can look out this window and see a bird and think how beautiful the bird is - even know while I feel like I'm submerged in sticky blue-black goo. I can even get a thrill out of the word "goo". So when I feel that positive energy my immediate instinct is to share it with him. What happens? Nothing. Maybe a smile, but often the response is forced. Perhaps he does have a lot on his plate, but he's not the only one and I'll be damned if I'm the only one who's going to make any effort here.

I suppose this is part of why I feel like I'm at the end of the rope. I'm the one reading the books and wondering and soul-searching and he's... well. He is. I ask him to talk to me and he tells me things, but it takes forever to drag how he really feels about a situation out into the open. I'm the same way. I know how annoying it is and I've been trying damn hard to be more articulate and forthcoming. It feels like I'm building a bridge halfway through a ravine and the person who's supposed to be building the other half has got completely paralysed by how deep the ravine really is. I know not to offer advice, because it merely infuriates him, and that, for me, is hard because I am a fixer. I can see solutions and my immediate impulse is to help, but sometimes that's not what is wanted. I think this is part of the reason I feel like we talk at cross-purposes. We both think we know what the other wants to hear when we don't. Logically, the next step is to try and listen better, right? Ask questions, and find some semblance of an answer.

I know what I want out of this life. I have goals. I have wants. Some of them are completely selfish and could stand to be amended, but others are essential to my very essence. I have been asking myself how my current circumstances affect those essential things and whether or not I can sacrifice one for the other, or if there are any kind of compromises available.

listening to: Enigma - Silence Must be Heard
reading: Blackbird n Silver - Freda Warrington
word of the day: helotry
drinking: iced tea
feeling: the ozone on my skin