soapboxdiner

Indulge thyself at your own peril

Ah Diaryland, sometimes it's all about smiles and light, and sometimes it's just not.

It has been so busy here with work and children and work. I hate to say it, but I am just not the multitasker I could be. But for the most part, I suppose I'm okay with it. I like my quiet, my pace, my peace and quiet. But the world, you see, the world has expectations. Expectations - you know... they can all bite me. For serious. I can only give what I can give, you know? Selfish of me? Sure. But really, who out there really wants my half-ass attempts?

That's what I though.

So, there's the guilt. The Girl, who I haven't really talked to in months, barely speaks to me or acknowledges me. At first it was just awkward, too new the deterioration of all that intensity. I gave her space, because I figured a little distance would heal the weirdness. Now all I sense is resentment from her, like she feels abandoned. But honestly, explaining this entire time frame of space and healing seems most like a continuation of a bad drama that rightfully should never have been drama at all. I just don't get it. Maybe we're just too much alike in some ways, and too different in others. I just wish the "'PTSD' reliving the flashback" feeling would go away. Mistake? Sure. One I have to relive every time I see her? What the hell for and what's the point (or the use of it) anyway?

Anyway. Whatever. I suppose I will just have to accept that she'll not get past the tryst that should not have been. "Women are too emotional", indeed. I feel like an emotion vacuum. I deal in the extinguishing of fires of every day living; emotion is too expensive to indulge in when you're consumed with existential survival - as melodramatic as saying sounds.

In other news, I have guilt. I feel as if I have been a terrible friend to another lady I greatly admire. I should have been there for her and given more of my time and energy to building and maintaining, but I didn't. There are no excuses, just uncomfortable circumstances and me being too inflexible to put in the work. It's the stress, really. I always feel pulled in too many directions, end up on tilt and crashing on stasis.

But enough inner reflection. Entirely indulgent and tiresome for all.

I think I shall go fill the tub with hot hot water and baby oil, light some candles, and finish enjoying this lovely vanilla vodka/orange juice. Mmmm, creamsicle.

p.s. Did I mention that my mother had her 53 birthday this week and that my great-aunt passed away? Shoot. I remember going to her house and getting the best hugs, pulling weeds in her garden and chasing jack rabbits from her yard. The very best Sunday dinners were always at her house - pot roast with mashed turnips and gravy, home grown green beans with onions and bacon and freshly sliced tomatoes from the garden with a sprinkle of sugar and salt.

I remember her and the home she nurtured, and though I haven't seen her in 20+ years, still I feel the sadness of her passing as a loss. Goodbye, Mrs. Ella. You were definitely loved.

6:47 pm - 10.30.03
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