Humanity

learning curve

/again and again and again. kate, you must practice saying no to alcohol. kate, you must practice knowing yourself.

kate, you must learn more and more about your own fears and insecurities. all the time, focus on them all the damn time, because you will be pushed and plucked and placed into situations where you will be nudged,

making the first date is really easy for me. choosing to face the second is much more daunting i think . . . its the challenge to my system, a challenge to my arrogance that demands that i not have ‘feelings’… a second date demands consideration, i think.

maybe this is why i tend to just have first dates that last for months. its a simple act of self-protection. call it what you will.  its worked for me up until this point, but it strains now, pulls against the bit.

i’m just tired.

i wanted to have breakfast out today, but my date had a hangover and needed extra time to recover. so i gave him some.

i call bullshit.

 

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Humanity

Christmas, and the wind howls…

so, there are these things.

  1. everyone should get divorced. everyone. because during the time that the former-spouse has the kids, you do not. so what i get is three full days before christmas in which i actually roll around in christmas spirit.  i might bake cookies, i might wrap something. I danced in the kitchen. i reveled. in the spirit of sparkle and gifting of greens, and all of it. i even went out to a store on christmas eve, to buy myself a present.  god bless marshall’s. i don’t think i’ve ever been into a store on christmas eve and i was there really early, and i was so happy to see that the employees were mostly giddy and laughing, and not beleagured.
  2. don’t get divorced because i say so.  really.
  3. but maybe you could shake things up and send them to your folks before the holiday, to give yourself your own merry. if you have folks, if you like merry.
  4. i just came downstairs after a long bath, ready to order pizza for dinner because i’ve been ill, and i’m ready for bed.  Its 1:23 in the afternoon.   this was both, a funny moment and a sad one.  the kids have been on screens for the entire day, and made their own lunches while i pointed weakly from the chair. barely.
  5. my mom dropped off gatorades because the 6 year old and i were not keeping down any water and i was concerned about other things… 6 year old has now fully recovered and even ate chicken nuggets.  that is frankly disgusting and i’m aware of the possibility of demonic possession.
  6. i am not recovered. but i’m typing, i’m looking out the window.  i’m so glad Christmas is over.  Its just too much for my kids.  Its all meerrrgh.  too many inflated expectations and disappointed faces. its insane.

 

do you like it? Christmas, I mean. If you do christmas? (though i’ve heard hannukah has its own challenges… and lasts 8 freaking days….) i like it, but only for my rolling around in glitter experience, not as an experience i have with kids. 1227181017a I’m not sure its good for them, and I’m sort of tired of doing it to them.

i’m not sure the ‘spirit of Christmas’ means someone should be distraught because they are just overstimulated.

there’s something of a feeling of being trapped by the expectations, as a parent… and i’d like to figure something out to change it up a bit, maybe give them a few more options as they move out into the world.

hm. we’ll see. i’ve got a little time.

 

Humanity

UNFUCKINGBELIEVABLE

I’ve had sort of a capslocky few weeks, i think.  all within the realm of regular first-world disaster type things… car breaks down by the side of the road, yearly grief over the loss of my father, several strangers online asking me for money making me feel like a chump, my aunt making fun of my weight, a pipe bursting the day before i host thirty of my favorite extended family (including that aunt… giving her the perfect opportunity to see me for the first time in a year and ask me if i like donuts too much …) ceilings dripping with fierce abandon… as a general rule, if not in a horror movie or in a swamp plantation, the ceiling is not meant to drip. just saying.

i fed thirty people. my vegetarian lasagna was not terrible. the soup was called delicious. natasha’s kitchen by the way…sweet potato and coconut milk… i made mine bacon free, with veggie stock… the vegetarian i thought i had –is a devoted meat eater. so we all had more veggies than normal, and we’re all okay.

and then we had desserts…

it is a rough potluck, so i’m not saying i made all the food. AT ALL.

my 73 year old mother made a lasagna that got raves and put a ham on the table… my sister made a gigantic kale/brussel/apple salad that kicked some ass.  there was another salad..(from she who currently is not to be named) and turnip, cheese, rolls and pie and pie and pie and chocolate things…

we are fed. we are grateful.

my stress level did include a whole lot of third-personing, but i’ve stopped now.

and i never even had a cigarette. that whole time.  but i do admit, it is rising to mythological, how much I want to… angels, choirs… athena, diana… didn’t they catch a quick smoke just fine?  … all that… i think i might end up tippling zeus on the porch…. as a substitute…

sigh .  i’m fine.  but i’m tired of character building.

 

1124181415b
the soup would have really made the composition here ‘pop’ but alas… it was in the kitchen, with all the bowls and a huge slop of spoons… 

its that song… spun on high speed… ‘we are joyful, we are joyful’… super highspeed.

thats my inner world as the whole house vibrates with the industrial sized dryer that is pointed at the ceiling in the other room.

 

so be it.

resistance is futile.

 

(my aunt is just that way. i love her anyhow.  i’m still going to eat donuts.  my curves are rubenesque and the men just love them.)

Divorce, Humanity, Uncategorized

Fog continues. Grief. I know fabrics.

Today i’ve turned off all the kitchen lights, and am typing by computer screen, sparkle lights and a damp grey morning. soft wool. 1120180831a

people are really lovely, they really are. above all.  cashmere.

and still, yesterday i almost crawled back into my bed while the kids were here.  it can be done, but i can only handle it when there is no will left in my body, and vomit is coming forth.

so i must have some will left in my body while the fog is here.  i stay out of bed while kids are here.  old school corduroy, stiff, scratchy.

but man, this grief is hitting hard this year.  and its been five years, so there isn’t a real trigger, except in realizing how much time has passed and how mad i am at my dad for not being here for these five years, and how i would really like to have him around, mad or not.  and how i still look for him everywhere. piles and piles of washed cotton, cold and damp.

its been a big five years.

i think i’d still be unhappily married if it weren’t for what his death showed me.  it uncovered the truth of my unhappiness. the untrustworthy man, the unreliable man, the inexplicable man that i was married to brought Bold in the loss of what in many ways was his opposite.  the things i loved so about my husband were washed out by the things which really make him ‘not the marrying sort’… no matter how many times he tries.

and here i am, swamped into the tub, barely reaching the lip to see out.  turning down work, or asking for delays while i sink.  flannel.

man.

 

its been a big five years. plasticwrap. (not fabric, but still. how it feels.)

Humanity

My favorite boss/waiting for a mudslide/faithjones

My favorite boss ever is the scary angel uncle in The Nutcracker.  You know, the one who is terrifying, completely, but for some reason Clara likes him and then you realize he’s a great Wizard bringing the Magic and the Fear of Mice into the world…? That guy? Yeah, he’s my boss.

He tells me to go make a facebook ad. A duplicate of one he ran six years ago.  And then he shoves me and tells me not to bother him anymore.

I cry a lot, in anguish, when I don’t know what words mean. . . and i cry a lot here right now.  CTR, CPM…. ROI… Technically, I know what they all mean, but I’ve had to look them up, all of them, and I am not clear on how they relate to me, or what i am trying to do.

and … it all hurts my heart….WHY? WHY, you say!

1. to admit that I don’t sell anything and if i have to peddle in this stuff, i might completely fail when I do find something to sell.

2. that i am 44 and i don’t know how to learn this stuff.  I don’t know whether i need to go buy a book and a highlighter and just camp out til it makes sense…

or youtube videos? pay some kid to sit with me and teach me, simple steps? how to duplicate without making a million clones..? I mean, seriously, i don’t know if i can do this.  and i might blow something ‘real’ up in the process….

and plus, you guys, WHY IS THE WORLD LIKE THIS?????

why are we tracking all this data? why are we so full of manipulation and money-grubbing?

….which is to say…. i have realized that my dream of being paid to just write for you, here, is a fairy tale.  one of many, yes, that my golden shard wholeheartedly throws herself at daily.

she just ‘believes’ I can. without any data, or product to sell. just belief. faith.

it cuts me to the quick.

sitting back, waiting for a mudslide to close the road.

what to do about this? any of it? the golden shard, crystal?

oh my word, could i be Atreyu’s Empress?! Could I?

PLEASE?!

good god, its so good to realize my true calling. so damn good.

 

 

ah. faith.   i’ve got so many questions for you.