A Dark Drizzly November in My Soul

I'm not asking for a miracle here, but an end to all of this rotten luck would be nice. For a change. I'm reminded of my "never give up attitude" at times like this (the times when I'm being petty and whiney, the times I want to crawl under the covers and hide in my own immaturity like a security blankey of self-righteous angst). And I am disgusted by it. Under normal circumstances, I would call this the most moral guidance I could give myself. I see progress as being divine, and the highest calling of man-- his greatest duty to himself being the discovery of that which he loves to do, and his greatest duty to others (in as much as he has one) being to do it well and to the full measure of his ability and passion. But these are not normal circumstances, I am tired and I have a head-cold. These factors make me predisposed (more so than normally) to trivial complaints and a general, yet all pervasive lethargy.

Furthermore, I have found that such conditions lead to thought such as this :

"There are times when even the most ardent worker needs a break, a day (or in my case week) to overcome the challenges life has so rudely heaved at them. The kind of challenges that come on like a bullet train to the face; leaving you alive but only enough to laugh when you are informed that "overworked-type-A- Dumbass" is medically a preexisting condition. And when one is faced with just such times, and just such luck, the only rational thing to do is say (if only for one day) "fuck it, I'm calling in sick". Sometimes that is the only thing stopping us from stepping out into the quad and giving that bastard "Boomer" what for."

But that is a very dark place that no one wants to go to, least of all me; I would assume we all love our mascot bobcat dearly (or at least would rather he not have his tail forcibly fed to him-- making him the world's first Möbius mascot). And so I will say this: it is a damn good thing that every once in a while the movers of the universe take a sick day. This is my substitute for pistol and ball; and quite frankly, it suits me just fine.

Persona non Grata

I don't have long before I have to work, a little less than an hour now. The weather is a brooding gray, but I'm pleased by it. I love this weather, I feel like I can think in it. Right now I feel a little tired, a little bound. I am feeling a little unlike I should be if I want to function in this environment at this time. Why is this?

I'd guess it is at least in part due to the presence of more than a few persons of an undesirable nature in my life- and immediate range of vision. I know this is not the whole story, however. It is also the presence of an unwanted stray emotion or two. More later

Dramatis Personae

Thoughts of a troubled protagonist. But the show must go on!

"I want to tell him, just to stir shit up; I want him to know just to get it out there in the open. I want to say it just so that in the numbness afforded to me by tears and caffeine I can say I said it.

I know it will leave me vulnerable, and that I am meeting him on his terms. I know that I face rejection- or worse the exploitative nature of a vengeful ex. I know this, and because I do I am compelled all the more strongly to act. Accordingly, I am faced with an equal and opposite force-- the pull of my own repulsion to the thought, to those feelings, to myself.

To be vulnerable in such a way is to give control to emotion. It would mean accepting powerlessness-- this, from the girl who white-knuckles life, and would spit in fate's eye at first chance. Emotional honesty has never been my strong suit. But he wants me to be honest. But right now, I know that is the one thing I cannot do. I know that if I were to do this, he would leave again, to spare us both. It is for that reason that I cannot be honest.

He's trying to look out for my well-being, I know. He's taking care of me again like he used to, and I'm crying out-- begging him not to.

But how can I possibly say: "Leaving you was the worst thing I could have ever done. I love you. And it hurts me to think I've continually done things to lose you over this past year. It hurts me to think that you still care, and to remember how much I love you. Please, don't take care of me; don't be so gentle; don't be so kind. Don't care so well as only you can. Please, you're breaking my heart..." ?"

Krystalnacht in my mind...

If I didn't have to work, I wouldn't. It is so painful, to think that I have to work at such a feverish pace to make something of myself.