The Blood Returns

I don't really have the energy to do all of the usual blog format stuff. 

It's been a whirlwind and I feel strung out. The job pace has hit a rhythm, which is good, but on top of that I am trying to wrap up the book proposal AND all of a sudden getting edits on freelance stories I filed weeks, if not months, ago. All at once. Have been waking up before work to work. Am working at nights, when I have my wits about me, but usually I don't. I have no idea how to get it all done because quite frankly I feel fried. And I am getting my period in a few days, rendering me even more useless...

I have reconnected with my 8th grade boyfriend. Whatever it is we feel is amazing and palpable but he is bipolar and on lithium and well, dude, that's that. I am already getting the idea of what his mood swings are like, and I can't have my own moods resting on his happiness. It's a lot. In general, too much. I think I need to step away, even if our nights together are amazing, full of laughter and soul searching and fun. Because I would like, just once, to have a stable guy. Who will maybe take care of me. 

Which somehow transitions to The Bloody Baron, pictured above. He is back in my care now that the second floor people have moved out. His tail is still on the short end; I think he will always bite it. That's that. Today, as I have struggled to meet even one deadline, I spent a lot of time watching him, getting to know him all over again. I practiced the macro function on my camera and took those pics of him. 

I've had him for two years now. I got him when he was at least one because he was already huge. Which makes him three. This is nearly the end. Four years is a long time for a betta. And he's pushing it. He's slowed down a bit in his older age. He sits on the bottom of his bowl for long stretches at a time. He doesn't dash around showing off nearly as much. Of all of my fish, I have always found him the most expressive. He is always scowling, in a way I find very Japanese. I have always kind of thought of him as Japanese. When he chews, his entire heads moves upwards. Up, up, up, as if he were trying to bounce a ball on the tip of his nose.

He is going flare crazy right now because the position of the light is causing him to see his own reflection in the glass. And he is BUGGING. Heh. 

I love The Baron and weirdly, though I have not thought too much about the fish in general, at all, I am very glad he's back home. Today I was thinking about burying Joan II and David II at Yoga Mountain and I started thinking about whatever burial I would give The Baron when It's Time. I think I would like to bury him under the Uncle Pepe bush, the one I planted after Uncle Pepe died. God. That bush really struggled last year, I have to say. Which has me sort of worried for it. I hope it makes it this year. I feel guilty because I never had the mourning for Uncle Pepe that I wanted to have. And then I just let it all go and forgot. I didn't take care of the bush. Ugh. Ugh!

I don't know. I have so much writing to do right now and I am totally fried. But I wanted to mention that I am connecting today with the Baron, in part because I haven't said too much at all of late, and also because hey. He's a good fish.

"IS THIS THE END?"

TIME: 4:33 pm

RATIONS CONSUMED: 1 roast pork bun, 1 mug genmai cha, 1 glass organic lemonade, half organic sandwich of turkey, cheese and egg, half of a plate of organic beef stew, salad, cookie with dulce de leche

MORALE: ok, though all caught up in a tizzy.

FIELD NOTES: Have been playing New Edition's "Is This The End" on Youtube. It came up in a conversation last week with The Screenwriter, the new man in my life who is not my man, and in fact reeling from a break up. Shortly after referencing this song, which he amazingly knew the words to and sang, if not in falsetto, entirely on key with me, on a walk after our dinner at The Palm (hahaha), he grabbed me on a street corner and kissed me.

The kiss had been premeditated on both of our parts. We met last weekend. The context of the meeting was not a kissy one, in fact I butted into a conversation he was having about an apartment he might be moving to, and one part of the conversation led to another and then he was telling me about his hurt/lostness/mortification of losing his lady of three years. Being no stranger to the range of lunacy that follows heartache, I was a good listener. 

Still, the conversation was great. Then came facebook, then came email addresses, then phone numbers, then this dinner randomly at The Palm less than a week later. We had already had a conversation in which he subtly bemoaned a need for a reboundy make out and I solicitously jumped on the implications. 

Then we went out. Then we kissed. His first kiss with a new woman in three years.

I am skating a fine line. Unlike 28, The Asian or the Financier, I like The Screenwriter. I mean, I really like him. I want to talk to him all night long. At "Slumdog Millionaire" last night I just wanted him next to me so that I could look at him and squeeze his arm when the film made my heart swell. I think about him. A lot. He is smart and thinks like me and perhaps because I suspect he is something of a therapy junkie, he is very comfortable with his emotional process. At least he acknowledges that he must have one.

So I don't know. In between trying to get this new site off the ground, the job which now entirely occupies my consciousness entirely, unfortunately, I spend what little left there is of me thinking curious thoughts about him.

That he is reeling from his break up is good because it keeps me mindful and self protecting.

But I liked kissing him.

 

BEDRIDDEN.

TIME: 11:10 am

RATIONS CONSUMED: 1 bowl of taiwanese noodle soup. 1 mug OJ. should probably make some tea.

MORALE: decent though limbo-ish due to being in sickly stupor for several days. what a waste of a 5 day weekend.

FIELD NOTES: Yes. You inferred correctly from the morale note. A five day weekend, which means, yes, I am employed. Have been in the office lately, and it has been good. A relief to have young, fun co-workers vs. raisins like at the NYDN. Not that the raisins weren't wise and fun and full of other things to offer. But anyway. Work is good.

What has not been so good has been having a cold. Perhaps gotten from day of skiing last weekend (super fun)? I thought have had decent mind/body connection but maybe not. So what was to be a super productive weekend has been a lot of watching of TV. Like, days and days of TV which is no good. And now I am behind and unmotivated. What I should do is drag my ass to paragraph to work on my chapter for Sarah. Having a job totally interferes with personal plans of kick-assery. So does having a cold.

This is a lame post but I feel lame and unmotivated. I can only do a little bit of something at a time, like cleaning out 1 pair of shoes at a time from my closet. That is barely cleaning at all. OK. Now I am just bullshitting. So I will go.

TRYING TO MAKE BREAD

TIME: 12:36 pm

RATIONS CONSUMED: 1 choco-coffee-milk thing, 1 mug awake tea, 1 pork bun from Fay Da which I have been loving

MORALE: both Zen and on Edge, waiting for Official employment, as in verbal offer Limbo.

FIELD NOTES: Those are my baguettes. They toast up amazingly well. And geddit? I am trying to make bread. As in a living. 

On Friday they made an offer to me. I didn't know it would be the case but during my grueling edit test I sort of fell for the gig. Look at that. The girl caught feelings. And it seems there was mutual love, as they extended an offer on Friday. I was like ooh la la who me YES! But now I await the Official Official Paper Signing and Such. And I sort of fear that until that goes through, anything can still happen, some sleeper cell can awake and blow my shiz up.

Speaking of Shiz, I just finished reading Wicked, which was on the shelves here at Paragraph. It was...almost really good. I wanted more. But she attended a school in the area of Shiz and I kept thinking Shit, Shit, Shit. I liked the activist green misunderstood witch. There was just too much damn dialogue and too many time jumps that sounded way too interesting to skip over.

Anyways. There is that. There is the fact that Politico is back in town and invited me for drinks and mentioned he may be buying the firm because his partner/boss is now in the Bobama freaking White House. What am I supposed to do with that? I'll tell you what. Hang out with my cute-yet-uptight-28-year old who is suddenly obsessively emailing me, my 32 year old toilet-breaking-fling who is slowly redeeming self through charm and purchases of organic lunches and pending dinners, and perhaps even boinking Sexy Beast (though maybe not as he gets around).

I woke up at 2:30 in the morning. Went back to sleep at 6 am. Messed up my writing plans for today. But sigh. I am trying to be on them. Yet. Why. Am. I. Blogging. Here. 

??????

very early in the morning

time: 6:14 am
rations consumed: about to have a hot chocolate/coffee concoction, currently steeping in coffee press
morale: it is kind of low, and trying to stick to mind knowledge that perhaps am premenstrual but still must live through heart knowledge of feeling like crap

field notes: well. it's been a bit of a breakneck pace. i have had a total of six interviews for that women's website job and i should be hearing today i think whether or not i get it. being in limbo has me completely unable to work at all; i spent all of yesterday on the couch watching reruns of CSI. i want the job and i don't want the job, the latter just being fear of failure and change. we'll see. i believe in destiny.

as usual i love my worms. they have been doing well, i feel the bins have finally achieved a certain amount of equilibrium. granted, they are much slower since it's colder now and the main hallway downstairs is drafty. but god. if i could escape to a giant world of vermicomposting and on-line texas holdem, wouldn't that be wonderful?

instead, i must deal with my realities. my friends are increasingly unreliable and caught up in their own messes. while i drop all to assist in their pains and struggles, no one is doing much pulling for me. i am trying to figure out how to make new friends but it's difficult. sure, in this city one can make lots of acquaintences. but it's not the same.

sigh. everyone is retarded. boys are retarded. a recent one who was good at sex broke a toilet seat and nearly broke my router and wasn't man or adult enough to realize he should be paying to fix them. it's too bad because i actually liked this guy, from my writing space. but whatever. and still my dreams are haunted, last night by the 28 ur old who i did truly like, with whom i made out on a park bench after drinks and snacks and dessert, but since i have not heard much from. true, there was thanksgiving and then i believe he is in guatemala now. but still. :(

retards. all i have is work. so i guess though it is only 6:30 i will get dressed and go to it and may as well make all of that crap come true.

jobs.

time: 11:13 am

rations consumed: 1 mug of ginger green tea, the butt end of one of the baguettes i made, toasted.

morale: still sort of low and crabby; maybe a cold is coming on. i don' t know. it is appropriate to listen to radiohead right now. so it's a little depressing yah.

field notes: i have been supremely flaked on by several friends this week which i find really abhorrent and wack. i am sick of all of my friends and i need new ones. i am trying to make some new ones. it's hard.

had a mtg yesterday re: this eco website i was pitching self to. while there the recruiters went all gaga and want me to pitch self for this woman's website thing. ugh. it's a lot of pressure and not really what i wanted to do but we are in a recession and so i have got to plan ahead. yet i am being passive aggressive. they wanted something last night and i am only starting to put it together now. ugh. whatever. if they want me that badly...

every night i dream i am in love and having lovely intimacy with various guys. two nights ago it was seth rogen, and then my 8th grade boyfriend, and my freshman year in college flirtation. last night it was the guy i met in the BVI, and then some other dude, who weirdly also resembled seth rogen, who i never think about in waking life. it is nice to be loved, at least while i dream.

well, isn't that depressing. i have all sorts of weird stupid things going on with boys right now and too much to do workwise, all work that may amount to nothing. which is pathetic and sad. sigh. 

plus the stock market is TRULY terrifying. as is my ira. and 401k. and all of that shit. so i really must work.

fred

time: 2:17 am

rations consumed: oh jeez a lot. i can't even get into the weird sad menu of today. but in brief most importantly got sushi with steve and lonely pizza for dinner before kirtan at which i cried but not in a good way

morale: ugh my period is OVER i should not feel this way. full moon bullshit???

field notes: i wanted to write about fred. he was a guy i knew in college. i thought of him recently because i read my old journal. the depeche mode guy. he was tall and had a big nose and a pointy head and smallish eyes. reminiscent i suppose of patrick stewart, if i had to pick someone, but not. fred knew a lot about art cinema and opera and landscaping. i knew he was smarter than me, i sensed that he understood more of something on some level i didn't even know. i guess in some ways then he scared me a little. we met freshman year and sometimes he would come to my room and cuddle with me and we'd kiss and maybe he'd bite my nose. he had a nasal voice but in a gentle way. it is very strange that the word that keeps coming to me to describe him is gentle but it is. he wore jeans and a grey tee shirt. 

i am sort of overwhelmed with emotion today. i went to kirtan at which ethan ditched, long story, but it is useless to hang out with married people, especially curmudgeons like him. it was a bad kirtan, this west african lady with no musicians and hard melodies and lyrics. i sat in the back and eventually i just cried.

i could have hung out with my potentially new boy. but i found out today via random details and a brilliant brain wave that he used to date a casual friend of mine. that sort of changes it all for me, in part because i have no more discovery. i just have leftovers. and i need to feel discovery now. i want to feel alive and real.

had two MORE weird conversations today that i can't even get into. one with The Mogul and one with Trapeze guy. the former makes me a little sad, and the latter would make me mad if i cared any more. but i don't. not about him.

everything is empty. and i don't even get much writing in. not as much as i should. what the fuck am i doing?!?! jesus. i suck.