WHOA. Hidden Dangers.

I freaked out the other night. Like, freaked out in a way that I have only done one other time in my life. I had an emotional breakdown.

These things never happen to me. Wait, no no no. I never LET these things happen to me. If I feel negative, or have a bad experience I usually push my emotions about it away. Word to the wise: This will not do. Not at all.

They don't go away. Ever. Even if you learn to deal with the things that shape you as a person, they never go away. I went through six months of therapy after me and the ex-husband split, and during that time I was able to start learning how to get in touch with those deep dark places within, and hopefully help some of that shit come out into the light. It was really hard, and even though I was trying to be as open as I could in those sessions, I knew I was editing. I knew it as I sat there and cried harder than I have cried in my life, and that is a scary feeling. It is scary knowing that you aren't going nearly as deep as you should, but even at that depth there is such terror and fear. It was intense, and almost overwhelming.

Well, those very deep things that I can hardly look in the face started to surface within me the other night. It was after a conversation with my sister, and as soon as I put down the phone, I felt something burbling up. But instead of dealing with what was coming up in me (abandonment, rejection, fear) I pushed it away and started acting out. And I starting acting out on a person in my life that I know loves me very very much. Someone who I've been able to share more of myself than with any other person in my life, except for mey lifetime best friend. And I hurt this person. And I hurt me. And I kept going. I was out of control.

Now I'm out of town on business, trying to be focused while at the same time trying to pay attention to what is happening inside of me. I've gotten so good at pushing negative things away—so very good that, a week after my dad died, I was right back at work and acting like normal. God, I have buried so much shit. And my failed marriage is one more victim, along with the countless number of friends and family members that I've pushed away or just dropped.

I think it is time for me to do the hard work.

I must admit: I'm scared shitless right now.

Saturn has motherfucking returned.

I Can Haz SPACE MAAAAADNESS!??!?!?

Been stuck in house. No power. Five days.

Finally out. Feels like a jailbreak. I'm waiting for sirens to go off because I'm missing.

Going to NY tonight. Feels like I'm stepping from one dream into another. Madness.

I miss my pooch already. She kept me warm.

More from the road later.

A Chandler Bing Moment

Can I ADD any more to my plate??

If you have been an avid reader of my fascinating life, then you may know that things have kinda been crazy for me over the last year. Let's reminisce.

Last year this time I was...

building a house
living in my mother's unfinished basement
about to be kicked out of said basement
supporting a serious alcohol habit
working on a short film
watching the mountains feel autumn from the top down
writing for a music blog
working a 9 to 5er that took more than 9 to 5
living a fabulously social life
blissfully oblivious to a crumbling marriage
(ok, fine, i was all too aware of said marriage)
watching a friend fade
not getting laid (and how callous is it that i put that after the "friend" item, eh?)

Good god, that was an Eeyore moment. Let's all pause to shake it off.

If you asked me then what my life would like now, my current experience would probably be the last thing I would guess. Now that I'm here, I can't imagine it happening any other way. Now, I'm...

single (wtf.)
renovating my new house (somewhat planned, but still: i'm crazy)
still working my 9 to 5er (but now with 20% more FREE!)
starting a new business (i know.)
trying desperately to write music (read: not writing music)
seeking to grow personally (i am a bad, evil person--dammit. fail.)
watching autumn from my home
trying to convince my sister to come move in with me so i don't have to get a "roommate"
attempting to de-stress my life
attempting to have more sex
traveling like crazy

Does life ever GET any less complicated?

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

Sometimes my subconscious is like, soooo totally obvious. I mean, I really like those dreams I have where I wake up and say to myself, I say, "Self? What the eff was that?? What does that mean?? Am I secretly a man trapped in a woman's body??" And that bitchy self never answers.

But last night, my dreams were pretty see-through. One was about my soon to be separated from husband coming my (our old) room and saying, "Let's have sex one last time." Well, yeah, ok. Pretty clear. I'm terrified of being alone, not being sexually attractive, not having a partner I trust--all these things that have been building up in me with my so to be ex over a period of years. Great, subconscious. I get it. (Luckily in the dream, we almost did, and I then I came to my senses and refused because I knew it would set me back from all the progress I've made over the last week. Man, I am even rational in my DREAMS! Why couldn't I just have had the dream sex?)

The next dream was a group of people sleeping over at this really gorgeous man's killer house. We are all lounging around, someone was playing with my hair. Everyone was beautiful and sexy and sexual, even though there was no hanky panky. Ok, subconscious, again, I think I get it. This is my ideal. Awesome people attracted to me. Many awesome people. Sweet. (God, why couldn't I have had dream sex in THAT dream??? Sometimes my subconscious can be such a prude. Jeez.)

The next dream was about my extended family, and telling my grandparents--the ones that have been pushing me and soon to be ex to make a baby being--that we are getting divorced. Painful. And this dream was full of strangness. For starters, my grandfather was this king of carnival-type that was guessing people's weight, and he put me about 20 pounds over what I am. Harsh. And then my uncle was telling me he was getting divorced from my aunt, who happened to be his sister. I mean, we are Southern, but we ain't trash, ya know? And then my uncle started to sign his divorce papers and turned into my dad. Whoa. Subconscious, I get where you are going with this, but did you have to jumble it up so much? My father figures have disappeared from my life and now the only ones left are either hurting me or unstable.

Good grief. No, that should BAD grief. Bad grief! Bad! Go to your room!

Channeling the One Power

I'm not sure how it exactly happened, but I was somehow drawn in to Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. I've read the entire series—that is now awaiting one last installment following Jordan's death a few years ago—probably five times. Maybe six.

I've been pestering my husband to read these books for going on five years now, and he finally picked up the first book the other day. Seeing him start the book made my mind water, so I came up with a great idea: Let's read the books out loud to one another.

I should have known that I would end up reading them out loud to myself. My husband tends to fall asleep when confronted with books, movies, or any other activity in which he can make himself comfortable. It's an uncanny knack—nay, it is a gift—that he can fall asleep whenever and wherever. But he has been a champ; he stays awake as long as his brain will let him, and I catch him up on what he missed. It has been so pleasant, and my reading-out-loud voice is getting really good. But in reading a book out loud, you begin to notice things that your mind might have scanned over before (because with Jordan's drawn out descriptions of Illian and Tear, my mind starts to wander, so I scan).

One of the things I've noticed: He says "abruptly." Like, A LOT.

I've said it so many times, the word has lost all meaning to me. It even looks weird to me. Ugh. A-B-R-U-P-T-L-Y. Look at that! Those letters were never meant to be that close to one another!

Stop using "abruptly"!

GAH!!!!!!!!

If I were a cartoon, I would have roadrunner running legs.

In the next month I am:

Finishing building a house
Moving into said house
Throwing a party for those who helped build said house
Planning and throwing my company holiday party
Cooking for Thanksgiving at my mom's house (yeah.)
Shipping a monsterously intense book
writing music
starting a band
recording music
donating platelets
going to therapy
flying to Colorado and driving back to NC with a friend
Friend is moving in
trying to get back to some semblance of a sex life with my husband
making Christmas presents

Just in case you're wondering where I may or may not be...

At Least My Job Doesn't Suck This Badly

Although, I've always wondered what it would feel like to just go fucking crazy like this in my office... heh...

I Have...Lost My Words....

Blarrrrrrghghghgh.......

*drools on self*

Break Out the Crampons

Because Hell is freezing over as we speak:



I have officially purchased my ticket to Iceland. Geothermal baths, here I come!!!!

Screw Angelina: Jane Austen, Adopt Me!!!!

I often fantasize about living in eras that are not my own. I have a bordering-on-obsession obsession with the Regency period, (obviously, I'm not alone here) having read almost every Austen novel and seen every adapted-for BBC movie. (Pride & Prejudice with Colin "Darcy" Firth? Awesome.) Today, more than most days, I want to be there.

Fuck cell phones, fuck TVs, fuck IM, fuck computers, fuck answering machines and their evil stepsister voicemail. Fuck e-mail, fuck snail mail (I'll take mine on horseback, thank you), fuck checkout lines, fuck coke lines, fuck bylines. FUCK celebrities, fuck media, fuck car "collisions" (since "accident" implies guilt). Fuck higher learning, fuck airports, fuck taxis, fuck work-related functions. Fuck PC, fuck democracy, fuck peace (thanks, MJ). Fuck trannies, fuck bars, fuck pampered dogs. Eh, fuck it.

Believe it or not, I'm not really in a bad mood. I'm just tired of dealing with all the things that get in the way of my thinking. I need a nice, quiet place to sit, read, crochet, maybe even paint a fucking watercolor. (Those of you who know me, know how very far-fetched this is. I'm allowed to be a dichotomy, dammit.) I need to feel like I'm hearing my inner voice that is only mine, not all the white noise and static of the things we are all exposed to every day. I mean, can I really, please, someone, get through one day without seeing a single ad? No, I cannot. And they won't rest until they acquire the adspace on the backs of my fucking eyelids.

I want to wear heavy dresses that drag the dust. I want to challenge the Regency ideal of feminism. I want to worry about my chances for a financially advantageous marriage. I want to ride horses into a hunt. I want to be treated as a delicate flower. I want to sleep with hot stones in my bed on cold nights. I want to laze away my days in boring idleness.

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. Maybe I don't want Jane Austen to adopt me. Maybe I want to be bare-breasted, galloping into battle beside Boudicca, slaughtering Romans and feeling the spatter of warm blood on my body. Yeah, that's better.



Fuck Jane Austen: Boudicca! ADOPT ME!!!