Because bad taste is better than no taste at all.....

Thursday, May 12, 2016

#334: suggestions

It's getting more and more difficult to look Dent in the eye. Not that I've ever really been all that great at looking people in the eye; I find faces harmless enough, but distracting, and so I look elsewhere when they're speaking to me. But figuratvely speaking it has been increasingly difficult. Because I have been less than honest. Oh, I haven't lied, per se. More a matter of omission. I've kept up with appearances because I don't want anything to distract him from getting his schooling done.

Instead, I've been gradually nudging him away. Or "weaning" him away from me. It's been mere hints; nothing obvious. I say things like "When you finish, you can get a better job, doing something you enjoy more. And live wherever you want".

Wherever YOU want. Not where WE want. I've been encouraging him to find his own interests and his own friends. In the hope that maybe, just maybe, he won't fall apart if I left.... We can only hope.

The weirdness at my end has spread. Things are being suggested to me, that I haven't heard anyone suggest in a long, long time. I'm not quite sure what to make of these suggestions. It's a bit difficult to describe without being graphic on what is supposed to be a family-friendly site. Also, it's difficult to determine if these suggestions will ever be acted on, or if the person is even serious about them (they live a bit far away to just "pop in" without some sort of notice). I've already been asked a couple of times, over the course of knowing this person, and turned it down each time due to one reason or another. I don't know if I've given this person the incentive to ask a third time.

And then, there's the "do I WANT to do these things that have been suggested" angle.

Oddly enough, it's been tempting.

The trees have finished leafing out, finally, and my maters have actually started growing. If I can just keep them going long enough, we may actually have some to harvest in a few months (or less, the biggest plant looks like it's trying to form flower buds already.) I doubt I'll end up with enough to can, but you never know. The peppers are a mixed lot; the cayenne's look ok, but the jals I had to re-seed, as the ones I transplanted looked a bit sickly. I replanted the thyme, and it's sprouted fairly well. The basil looks a bit thin, but maybe it just hasn't all sprouted yet.

As I write, a gray and orange skink pokes a nose around the potted plants, and comes to the edge of the plastic tray, tiny tongue flicking out. It decides it doesn't like the look of my feet propped up on the board next to it, and moves across the concrete block to a opening in the side. I hear it moving through the dried leaves by the car port.

"Mind the black snake," I tell it. Yes, we have one of those, too. Over the winter it'd been camped out in the well house (the neighbor had put a heater in there to keep the pump from freezing), but now with warmer weather, it decided it needed a summer home, and so now there's a rather large snake hole out back, on the tree line. Hey, as long as it's keeping the mousie population in check (and not coming IN the house!), it's fine by me.

Stay tuned.

Friday, May 6, 2016

#333: asking for directions

Wednesday night, we had a conversation, Dent and I, around the dinner table.

This past couple of weeks have been, to put it mildly, confusing--there are dreams I don't know how to interpet, and names and places keep appearing in unexpected places. I am feeling the pull, finally, and I don't understand why it is pulling me in the way that it is.

"So what's going to happen when you finish school, if you have to go in the opposite direction that I want to go?" I asked. "Will you be ok?"
Dent looked at me. "Do I have a choice?" he asked.

Well, yes, you do. I thought. You could fall apart, which is what I suspect you'd do if I left right now.....

"Brenda'd [the landlady] would be worried about me," he said then.
"Well, yes. She'd be thinking the same thing as I do--if I died tomorrow, you'd be SO screwed."
"I would not. There's always Taco Bell. And canned soup."

That wasn't what I meant, but ok.

"The only thing I have to work on is making sure I get up on time in the morning. For the most part, I've managed to do that. Hell, my family would never believe you got me trained to hear the alarm clock. Before I met you, other people had to wake me up because I wasn't hearing it!"

"That's because I put it on the other side of the room. When you physically have to get up to turn it off, your brain 'learns' to hear it when it goes off. "

We munched our dinner in silence then.

"What would you do if I'm ready to leave before you are?" he asked me later that evening.
I had to think a moment. Because I couldn't really see that happening. And I wanted to be tactful. "It would be hard, but I'd get by, as long as you were where you needed to be....." and then that got me thinking.

I've always been of the opinion that things happen for a reason. There was a reason that I "found" Dent 10 years after bumping into him at a SCA event. It could be my purpose was to help him get where he needed to be. Because quite frankly, he did not need to be in the house I found him in. That he'd lived in for those 10 years. Dead end job, barely making it in in the mornings.

It could be the direction I'm being pulled in is to help me get where I need to be.
Unfortunately, I've never been good at interpreting signs, so I am, as usual, unsure that what I'm seeing is what is really there.

It's sort of like when you're driving someplace new, and you think you maybe might kind of know where you may end up but you'll never be sure till you pull up at your final destination. Because the map you're using was printed up 5 years ago and you were too cheap to buy another one, and nothing looks like you'd think it is supposed to.

Too bad there isn't a place where I can stop n' ask directions......

Starting to feel the "pull". And it's scaring the hell out of me.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

#332: A tribe of loners

So some very generous folks have decided they want to live out in the boonies of NE Georgia, and have bought the property. While the proceeds aren't enough for me to retire necessarily (Especially once the IRS decides to claim their part of it),  it does give me the chance to take some time off from working for a few weeks, possibly the summer. What will I do with myself, when I don't have to be up at the crack of dawn, pushing hamburgers?

Sadly, I haven't figured this out quite yet. It's just one question of many in my life right now.

It's got to the point I don't really know who I am any more. If I ever really knew to begin with. My opinion of myself has always been colored by the opinions given to me by those around me. Opinions which, while I don't think they're necessarily wrong....really aren't who I feel like I am as a person. I have done things. I'm a human being, not a saint.

I find myself alone quite often. And 99% of the time I don't mind it.... The trouble arises on that 1% when I don't want to be alone and can do nothing about it. Because I have grown to dislike being around people. And NOT being lonely involves being around them. But not being around people means being isolated. Which makes me lonely at times. It's a circular pattern I've grown accustomed to.

I am, apparently, only happy when I am unhappy. 

What is wrong with me?

A better question would be more like, "What is NOT wrong with me?" You could argue that'd be better to ask as it'd be a more positive question....

I would argue it is better simply because it's a shorter list to get through.

What, then, have I got right in this life? I am living in a singlewide mobile home in a virtual "dead zone" (internet, cell phone coverage, etc), with a college degree I can't use. And a man I'm not even sure I love any more. So at the moment the answer would probably be: not much.

Perhaps I am approaching this at the wrong angle. Before I can figure out what I am, perhaps I need to figure out what I am *not*. But I'm not sure even of this. I don't remember much of what I used to like to do, even, besides grow things in buckets. And have my nose shoved in a book. Surely I had more hobbies than this?

If I stop to think about what makes me, me..... it's like I'm a total blank. Even my feelings. I don't know how I even feel most days.

So who am I, really?

Is there anyone else out there who feels as I do? (or not feels, as the case may be)

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

#331: "But I'm a fungi!"

Well, the key to my survival/
was never in much doubt/
The question was how I could keep sane/
 trying to find a way out/
Things were never easy for me/
peace of mind was hard to find/
And I needed a place where I could hide/
somewhere I could call mine.....

Genesis, "No Son Of Mine"

For those of you out there who've wondered where I've got to, the internet is a bit sketchy at the house, so I'm limited to getting online once or twice a week at places out and about town. I'm starting to wonder if this will be recified any time soon.

The gulf is widening, that between empathy...and apathy.
There is simply so much now, in my life, that I am willing to slough off.  Rather like a snake shedding its skin, only it's not skin, it's apparently feelings I've been casting off. There are days that run one into another, and as the blur intensifies I find myself caring less and less. I'm merely putting one foot in front of the other most days, only continuing on from time to time after glancing up to see the faint light in the distance.

Is it, as the joke runs, an oncoming train?

If so, the train isn't getting any closer.

...............However, it isn't getting any further away, either. Some days I think the light is getting brighter,  and that alone is enough to urge me further, to plod on another day, another week, another space until I am tired and worn out again.

Drained. I think that is the worst part of my life right now. That I am unable to change my circumstances at the present time except as a slow, painful crawl. And this drains me. That life is changing, but not quickly enough, and I am unable to speed things up without screwing things up. All with the knowledge that I am liable to screw things up anyway. I usually do. I already am.

Dent has picked up on my (half) joking use of the word "roomie" and the other evening talked about his "roommate" liking BBQ (we went out to eat). I don't know whether to be encouraged that he can see we're drifitng apart. Or worried that he thinks this is all a joke.

Valentine's day WAS a joke. I had to work that morning, and so suggested we lay low--opening the store on weekends usually ends with me crashing on the futon when I get home, for at least a couple of hours. I told him we didn't have to do anything, and I meant it. He didn't really have the money, and I was tired. But a hug would have been nice. Or something. I got nothing. We spent Valentine's like any other day, at opposite ends of the house.

I am literally wasting away, from lack of contact or any sort of attention from the man.

I realize he isn't a mind reader. Not too many people are. But if you have to actually TELL the person you are with what to do, it's a pretty good sign you are no longer in tune with one another.

I suspect we've been "out of tune" for quite some time, only I wasn't listening before.

It doesn't help that he's sliding back into his old ways, just as I knew he would. The room he sleeps in resembles the house he used to live in--not cluttered but outright trashed. Sadly, it would spread to the rest of the house, too, if I didn't clean now and again. I shudder to think what I'd be leaving the Landparents with if I did leave. Piles of newspapers from 6 months ago and candy wrappers, no doubt. All over the house.

My life lately has been a series of starts and stops, and hurry up and wait, and why the hell do I even get up in the morning? Long stretches of wearing my misery like a second skin, that I'm unable to shed, just yet. But it's starting to itch, all I need is the proper stone to rub against.......

One month and counting.

The other day was spent out down by the creek. This shows my apparent lack of common sense, as it was raining and we were also under a tornado watch (which was changed to a warning while I was down there!) . The waters rose a little, but it was mostly brown rushing, and little flooding. I did manage to get some photographs of some interesting fungi growing on a log.

I learned the other day the property we've had for sale, may have found a buyer. This is good news, it means I can finally fix my damn teeth and look halfway normal when I smile. This also means that, with some careful planning, I can keep working because I want to, not because I feel I have to. This should lower my stress level considerably.
Sunday was awful. The manager with the key (who is usually late anyway) was REALLY late and I ended up waiting outside the store even longer waiting on the GM to show up with the keys, as this girl had apparently left hers AT the store. Needless to say, we didn't open on time, and I spent the rest of the day trying to catch up, with limited success. I was a whisker's breadth from removing my BK shirt and name tag and leaving them, along with my hat, on the door, and just quitting. And you how bad it must have been, as I rarely do anything on impulse and just quit ANYTHING.

Stay tuned.

Thursday, December 17, 2015

#330: 12/17/15

So here we are, near the end of the year, and the old-year feelings have started in again. Part of the blame rests on the weather; it has been raining steadily all day, and promises to leave more before the clouds move on again. I don't know if I have SAD or what, but there is something about the time of year that makes me want to curl up and sleep for the most part. That "raccoon" thing kicking in hard and heavy again.

I went down to the creek this morning, dressed in poncho and black boots (no socks) to study the water. It was the color of the red clay that no doubt all the rain has driven from the banks, and higher than normal. I found another heart-rock; this one is smaller than the others I have found, and darker brown. I will have quite the collection by the time I am done.

I went on a rain-walk because I needed to think. There are things that are happening I did not forsee last year at this time, things strange and complicated. I wished for the weirdness to return; it is starting to make its appearance known once again, and this time, I am not sure what to do with it. But one step at a time; one day at a time. One solution at a time. All I succeeded in doing however, was wetting the ends of my pants-legs. There are things to do before I can make a decision, and these things must be put off for a time. Hurry-up-and-wait all over again.

I have managed to get a few things done; not least was the receipt of my birth certificate, which I hadn't seen before. I have taken a few more odds and ends to Goodwill. Last night I thinned out some things that could be thrown away (mostly paper), and pulled out some things that can be put in the neighbor's "burn barrel" (bills, bank statements, etc) The intent of all this is to condense and reduce, to make things easier to transport (or store) if/when the time comes. My next major goal is to get that passport photograph done, and see what else I need for it.

This day ends what passes for a "weekend" for me, as I am mostly reduced to working on weekend mornings. I can't complain as I would rather open than close anyhow. Still, this is not what I wanted to do with my life. Perhaps this aspect will change, as well.  

I turn 41 in January. Time is ticking. It is moving, even when I am not.

Thanksgiving slipped through almost unnoticed. The Megs was down, and she was somewhat nonplussed to find I'd already put up the Christmas tree. But really, she'd shown almost no interest in it last year; so I felt it was safe to do so. We got a new tree this year. it's one of those pre-lit things, but I still put lights on it. Christmas will no doubt be a quiet day for us. The store is closed that day, and Dent is off all next week. It will be all I can do not not express my irritation while he is home.

Part of the problem is the changes are in fog. Have I changed? Or has he? Or have we both, and gone in different directions? If this is the case, he cannot see it, and this will only make the end harder to accomplish. He is trying, but there comes a point where trying just isn't enough. Call it chemistry, or feelings, or just the ability to get it together.  It just isn't.....there...any more.

I honestly don't know what to do. Talking does little difference; it is in one ear and out the other, or he shuts down completely, shuts it out. I had to have an emotional breakdown to get him to listen to the last "talk" we had; I refuse to do this again.

I am still a bird beating against the glass; although I am starting to see the crack at the bottom, where someone is maybe trying to open it for me. Only time will tell if that gap becomes enough to wing my way through.

Stay tuned.