Sunday, April 15, 2012

been a spell, eh?

Oh gentle reader. There are times, gentle reader, in my life. There are times when the overwhelming power and energy and beauty in my life becomes just so great, it is beyond bearing. And there are times, gentle reader, when life is so bereft of minutiae, nuance, color, life and magic that it, too, is beyond bearing.

There are ups. There are up-to-the-sky, kiss the moon if you try, sing and the heavens will cry, kinds of ups that can lift not only my own spirits but those of every living thing around me for miles around.

There are downs. There are tarry black, sickly silent, hide behind the couch and never come out, downs. The downs radiate and contaminate and make everything thick and unmanageable for everyone around me.

Lucky for us, gentle readers and slathering minions alike, we live in a modern age of science and chemistry and just a few hundred thousand whack-o theories about space goons inhabiting our brains.

There is medicine.

And there is booze.

And may the gods bless both in equal, lusty measure; for the gifts of medicine, and the fitful glories of booze... they are great.

I have a job, you guys. Isn't that great?

It's a right-up-my-alley kind of gig. Pay is great. I can ride the metro to work. And (here's the catch) it's 50-60 hours per MONTH, you guys, so there's lots of time left on my happy schedule for things like writing and being silly and navel-gazing and such.

It's downtown DC too. And wow. That just NEVER gets old. I work in downtown Washington DC. One of the most globally-recognized cities in the world and JAM PACKED with people from alllll over the globe. As I'm sure I've already told you.

Trees are blooming, bees are buzzing, grass is growing so fast that it's getting mowed regularly now. Pools have been filled and are gleamingly blue in the daytime and dazzlingly multicolored at night (seriously, they put "rave" lighting in these things now!)

Larder is full. yup. Kitty is healthy and strong. My beloved husband is flourishing in his new job and each of his superiors tells him regularly how good he's doing (of course, in the same breath, they ask him to take on more responsibility too... so ... you know...)

Roof over our heads. Climate control. Doors that lock and cable television. Hot and cold running water and, by the gods, sliced bread in the fridge. As far as I know I'm healthy. As far as I know, things will stay that way. (caveats implied)

Life is good. I am clearly the wealthiest person on the planet and my luck, my amazing, befuddling luck, knows yet no bounds. Not a one.

So what if I feel absurdly blue every now and then? So what if I have bizarre conversations with complete strangers on the subway? Who the hell cares if I talk to myself in many languages while contemplating the nature of the universe? What business is it of anyone to object that I burn entire hours staring at bees or ants or paperclips? You know?

I know I don't fit. We all get that. My not-fitting-ness is no more or less obvious than it ever was anyplace else. That's my flag to wave and that's fine with me.

I'm homesick. I mope. But as a rule, everything is really REALLY good. and I just have to take a minute to remind myself (mostly) of that. Brain-storms be damned. Even at my worst I'm still awfully glad to be there for it.

I've been skipping writing here for a while because just as the cherry blossoms crested out here, I kindof got hit with ... let's say a rather epic chemical slump. The thinkmeat has been conspiring against me with terribly hurtful lucid dreams, way-too-vivid memories, and loads and loads of the kinds of stuff you're not supposed to torture yourself with until well past your second bottle of scotch. I'm coming back to the blog now because that's a familiar coat I've worn. It's heavy and it's cold and it's wet and I can see it for what it is and I'm trying to, if not shake it off, at least muscle through.

maybe with a little less alcohol. maybe with a little better attention to the meds.

and maybe, just maybe, gentle readers, with a little more confidence in my opus of late which might this year actually even get a big fat grown up barcode on it.

a'course.... going to bed at a reasonable hour would be a good habit to start up again too.

well, thanks for listening. 'nother boring "blah blah me" episode. I promise to go have some adventures now and do something silly in public and tell you about it with gusto upon my return. kay? MMMWAH!

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