I had a good weekend.

I went to Duncan so that I could get some away-time from this zoo I live in. Not that I can honestly hate either of the people I live with, but it gets fucking claustrophobic in here. (And don't even get me started on how things smell around here!) I used to get Saturdays to myself to recharge, but I don't get that anymore - and there is simply no place to cut myself off from all humanity for even ten minutes. (No, not even the bathroom. Apparently even shitting is no longer sacred for longer than five minutes.)

Anyway, I took some time to empty my head onto paper, which is something I've been wanting to do, or rather, needing to do for some time. A total of about 15 pages worth of crap. Stay tuned says my subconscious, because I think there's yet more up there. I wrote it and I've not looked at it again. Cathartic. Therapeutic. I talked some of those things over with mom too, rehashed some of the old crap and it helped me make up my mind about a few things.

I feel a bit lighter.

I also went to the beach, but there were too many people on it (!!) and the tide was too high for me to get much in the way of the desired solitude.

My cats are fat and relatively happy. Miss Kitten slept on me the entire Saturday night.

listening to: I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace
reading: The Manticore - Robertson Davies
eating: Chicken Caesar
drinking: yet another gallon of Arizona lemon green tea
feeling: harder, better, faster, stronger...

Labels: rawr, somewhere in the ether, SSDD

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

Labels: little black raincloud, rant, rawr, wordgeek

I've been meaning to write this for some time, to go with a couple other vignettes I've had the presence of mind to record - for myself mostly. Nomes reminded me of it earlier in the month when I suggested to her that we might check out the roller derby thing. Not that I can skate, of course, but I'm willing to try just about anything once. Hehe. Anyway, we also talked about one night in Nanai-hole that involved my exes' car and she said something about my raw aggression. It's funny how certain episodes stick out in your mind - and in others.

Anyway, it was December. I only know this because I wrote about it in the diary I stopped writing in 5 years ago. We'd had a 'night in' drinking and just being in the same space. The girls, Miss E, Nomes, Tabs, and I (there may have been at least two others, but I do not recall) sat in the kitchen drinking 'girly' drinks (aka, not beer) while the boys, RJ, the other R, Glyn, Ian, my then-boyfriend RB and DD either watched movies or, more likely, played a racing game. It might even have been a version of Gran Turismo. Anyway, I was the only one that was really sober, so when it came time for Nomes and RB and I to go home I was handed the keys to RB's car.

A word about this POS car before we go any further: I am still convinced that car had its gearbox installed upside-down or something equally dumb, because no one could drive that thing easily. That's no one. And I, who was not totally familiar with standard transmissions at the time had an especially "fun" time with it. So I wasn't exactly pleased that RB was too drunk to drive - not that I'd have been pleased about him driving anyway since he didn't have his licence in the first place, but there you are. My car was at my mothers for the winter since I had had no intention of driving in the snow that year.

Anyway, we say our goodbyes and are out the door and into the parking lot. Both Ryans are on the balcony, one of them - in that drunk 'I'm invincible stage' - is hanging off the balcony railing like some kind of monkey. I tell him to get his ass back inside, which is why I do not realize at first that it's RB's car that's pulling out of its space.

I stop in my tracks as the little grey hatchback backs out of the spot, and, rather jerkily, slams its bumper into the fender of RJ's beater. Someone behind me swears. I just stare for a few seconds as the guy in the driver's seat changes gears - I can hear the familiar grind the car makes as he does so and he starts to drive it up the drive way. The car resists, bunny-hopping toward me and I start to walk beside it, my hands balled into fists. The driver has his window partway down and I yell at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" but he ignores me. I cannot explain how the situation infuriated me but I think it was pretty obvious to him when I grabbed the door handle and pulled the door open. "Get the fuck out of the car asshole!" I remember shouting at him and I reached inside for him. I don't know what the hell I was thinking and this was not the smartest move I could have made, but I was furious. Absolutely fucking furious. I'm sure he thought I rabid or something and I hate to think what I looked like reaching in like that. Not my normal sweet self that's for damn sure. He didn't have his seatbelt on, which was good for him, because he bolted. The guy in the passenger seat wasn't very far behind. I've never seen someone scramble so fast to get away from me and I was very tempted to run after him, but the dangling Ryan had already leaped from the second-story balcony and vanished after the fleeing forms. The car started rolling backwards so I leaned in to pull the e-brake. That was when I realized there was a third guy, and he'd been stupid enough to put his seatbelt on. The ones in the back seat had a tendency to stick and he was fighting to get it off.

"You better hope you run faster than I do," I told him (or something to that affect, the diary's not all that legible) - and when I said those words I meant every one - as he finally got it loose and scrambled out the door. I'm pretty sure he face-planted on the other side of the hedge, but I didn't follow, I'd cooled off enough by then to realize I wasn't in a position to beat the snot out of them like I felt the urge to. Besides, they still had the other Ryan to deal with and he could be much scarier than I was. That thought still kinda makes me smile.

By then, everyone was outside asking how we were. RB, still up near the door just stood there, shock on his face. I think it was Ian that snapped him out of it, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and shaking him a bit. I, understandably, was shaking with adrenaline. RJ was the one that came down and wrapped his arms around me and I remember crying and trying not to and giving myself a bad case of the hiccups. I do not remember the drive home, only that it was done in silence.

Labels: fierce, neurotic bunny, PMS, rawr