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

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.

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