I am officially tired. I’ve been at work on a particular design project so relentlessly these last several weeks that my brain is just plain exhausted… and yet there is much left to accomplish. Deadline moved to end of next week, but I’m having trouble getting motivated. The weekend away will be a good thing. I’m eagerly anticipating sitting on a tractor and driving in circles until everything related to thinking quiets to meditative silence.
The city where I live isn’t really that small. I shouldn’t have to meet old lovers at the grocery. Yet I do. The conversation has been cordial; she’s married now… but her husband isn’t around much because he works construction and moves around. I know they spend time together and I assume their relationship is good, but her smile is too welcoming and genuinely pleasant considering how I treated her and how we left things. Either he’s an ass or she’s not so sure about pulling up stakes and moving twenty years after coming to town. I don’t do married women – it’s not worth the risk of bodily harm – but I’m wondering if I should tease out some info if I see her at the grocery again, then plan accordingly. Hmm…
After a friend shared a detail of her divorce, I realized I ought to discuss a similar set of feelings with a lover. While I am confident she believes I love and adore her (which I do; not the point), 24 hours later I’m convinced I ‘ve merely stroked her ego enough to restore her confidence in our relationship and my interest in her (feelings, happiness, fulfillment?) until her next existential crisis. More to the point, while this conversation was her moment to be heard, she’s clearly not considering what I want out of our relationship except in the context of her hurt feelings. It gets tiresome. I thought I’d escaped my parents’ home, but apparently it’s a travelling circus with many troupes.
Reader, this is one of the few times I invite you to call me an ass. After all, my life isn’t merely drama-free: it reads like stereo instructions.
I’m in a sales funk lately. I’ve got up to 6 small projects all lined up to go, but no contracts or notice-to-proceed; frustrating. Fortunately, I’ve got a paying job for the next two months, so there’s time to sort out the details, including the cagey clients who keep everything confidential but expect me to know their confidential dealings anyway. Sigh.
Got angry. Injured toe. Must manage anger better. Gimped walking might be a good reminder for a little while.
I took a moment to scan my subscribers list. I also browsed several of your blogs. Some of your blogs are set to private. That’s alright, except I don’t seem to have access to your blog.
My subscriber list isn’t that long, so it’s not like I’m demanding some sacrifice on the part of my readers when I ask this: if you’re reading my blog, and I’m not one of the people permitted to read your blog, please un-subscribe. I’m writing under a pseudonym, but other than that, you’re getting almost the whole truth, unvarnished and barely sanded.
So, if you’re blog is “private” to me, consider mine “private” to you.