Day of Rest or Lack of Direction?

It's Sunday, the "Day of Rest." Rest, I certainly have. But now what?

Dangerous heat and humidity, along with pending rain tomorrow, forced me to change plans. My initial intentions were to continue painting my house even if it were only a small section or two. I'd go shopping for a new door for the back of the garage, but I don't have my paycheck yet. It's too hot to sit in the sun, too late to find a patch of sand to call my own at the beach. My house is clean. The laundry is done.

So what's a girl to do?

Ah, that nagging question. The ceramics studio is being remodelled, so it isn't open until the middle of September. My teach-yourself Spanish audio book can't be checked out on another extension again. The piano hasn't been fixed yet and neither has my laptop. That darn thing called "money" has been getting in my way! Although I have been gainfully employed since the middle of March, the position I accepted came with one catch: it was only guaranteed until September 30th. So, I haven't truly escaped the financial prison of unemployment quite yet. There have been signs that funding for my position will be coming through, but until it is official, I have to keep my purse strings tight. That means no new camera to take my photography to the next level, no piano repair for a proper instrument to practice on, no inspiring trips to Italy...

I've made it this far, and I won't stop pushing forward. I suppose I'll have to find just a little more patience within me to wait out official word of my future financial stability. It's just that feeling that I'm wasting time that bothers me...

What's Next?

Pondering. I've been pondering what to do with myself, with my life, a lot lately. Now that I am single again, and not distracted by the flirtatious excitement of a new relationship, I feel kind of lost.

The past five years or so I've been doing a lot of growing... changing... and for the most part, I'd say I've made significant progress in my life. But yet, I feel stumped. Where am I going? What am I doing? I don't feel I have those answers. Where is my drive? Have I ever had this "drive?" These are my questions. Questions weighing so heavily on my mind, that I literally awoke with them this morning. Apparently my entire resting state is now consumed with these concerns.

My birthday is in two weeks. Another year of life passing. Did I do anything valuable within that time? I did finally finish school, something I had always wanted to do, and yet felt little accomplishment when it was all said and done. The same blankness of emotion surrounds my art, despite being offered to be in a show; and my writing, despite being published. I found a job at which I excel and that has the ever elusive "purpose" I find so important... and having a job these days is a miracle within itself. Honestly, I keep waiting for the curtain to fall, the bomb to drop, the bottom to fall out. Why am I so detached from myself? Why am I unable to celebrate my personal successes? Or even acknowledge them?

What's next?

I do not know. I have this nagging feeling that there is something I am supposed to be doing. An incomprehensible voice is calling to me... why don't I understand it?

Such is... Life; such is me.

So my "secret love affair" at work has been outted, and the "are we this" "or are we that"s have begun. There is no tabloid scandal... and no inner feeling of shock or pressure; I am just literally laughing at myself!

I have this history of having to prove things, and only wanting things when I can't have them. For example, I will play a man in a "man's sport" until I win... because I'm not supposed to. When my hair was stick straight, I longed for curly hair. Now that my hair has wave to it, I want my stick straight hair back! I never diet, because as soon as I utter the words, "I'm on a diet," I suddenly crave shit I would never want if I were left to my own dietary devices and I gain 5 pounds. When I'm single, I think I want a relationship, and when I think I might be in a relationship, I want to cling to my singlehood.

And now, here I am, dating. A guy who just can't seem to screw this up, and won't seem to let me either! What? Now what's a girl supposed to do? His swooning tactics are beyond masterful. He's so attentive that I bet he could tell you the last time I had pepper stuck in my teeth... My office has given him the thumbs up, and his office gave him permission to continue to see me because I "dress nice and not many women around here do."

I will not deny my self-defeating romantic behaviors. I thought C.F. was more amazing than a starry September sky; all the while knowing he would never be completely available to me. And now that this fella would rearrange the stars of the night sky to spell out poetic messages that only he and I knew the meaning of... I feel myself closing off.

I thought I was over this stupid shit! But, to avoid adopting a negative sense of utter failure... I'm going with the first step... and admitting this is a problem. So do I talk about it with him? Do I grab him and say, "No really! I like you... I just don't know HOW to like you?" Personally I would view that as a fast ticket out the door! But apparently, he enjoys riddles and puzzles, because so far, he's stuck around. Over 30 days. A record for my man-tolerance of late.

To be continued...

The Ditches

Ditch. Ditched.

What's up with the recent ditching of Mona? It's an epidemic!

My cousin has ditched me. He claims he's got personal business dragging him down. Chey has ditched me... same story. C.F. ditched me, but for understandable reasons. "R" disappeared! Maybe he's in a ditch? No word from my father in almost two weeks... that's a double-ditch. Brian hasn't called back about dinner, and Tonya is in the ditching process as well.

The employment world is ditching me.

All the while, I keep hearing random clips on t.v. saying "If you don't have friends and family, you don't have anything."

Have I nothing?

I hate to be bitching about all of this ditching... but it's starting to sting a bit! Have I lost my place in this world? I love life. Why isn't it loving me back?

From Zero to Funky...

Wow. I went from zero to funky in a mere 12 hours. Back to Funkytown I go. I had a nice, productive evening Thursday at the publishing workshop. But something happened in my crazy little brain while I slept... and it wasn't good.

I woke up feeling listless. Lethargic. Lonely. Empty. Exhausted. I don't know if it's the coldness of my house, or the pressures that I'm facing, but I was feeling a need to hide in the safety and warmth of my bed... for days!

There was a local "Fall Into The Arts" event downtown. I had been excited to go! Anxious to participate in a cultural activity in this stifled city. What happened to that? In fact, I was close to ditching my friend that planned on going with me. But, after deciding I would simply disgust myself by staying home for no good and definable reason, I got out of bed and hit the shower.

Mr. Irishman called. He had been calling all day. Wondering why I disappeared from our chat conversation last night. I didn't want to answer, my friend was on the way. I was fighting tears. Not wanting to honestly discuss how I felt and then have to explain it all again when I greeted my friend with streams of sadness running down my face.

I hate being negative! But, I'm facing some seriously negative shit! So I'm bottling it all up. And when I've actually reached out to friends to talk about it, they are always too damned busy. I hate that too! What's a girl to do?

I'm home now. Bundled up in dreary brown sweats to keep warm. Feeling funky, frumpy, and oddly frisky. Where's everybody at? Why am I not in bed? What the hell is wrong with me? Me. That's what's wrong! If only I could have one of those out-of-body experiences and transform into some blissfully ignorant blonde bimbos at the Playboy mansion or something. Anything. I need an escape. An emotional retreat.

Martha's funeral is tomorrow. And I'm not going. I feel terrible about it, but I am not comfortable with going there alone. Well, I am, it's the drive back that I fear would not be wise. I've simply got too much emotional shit going on to comfortably drive over two hours when I'm riddled with stress and sadness.

Please, please, please let something turn around soon. FAST!

Gregarious Gardener

I'm stuck! Confused. Well not really... I know what I want to do, but this unfortunate thing called money is in the way!

I want to be a writer. An artist with many muses. Many forms of media to play with. I want to earn my living creating. Whether it be writing articles for a newspaper, transforming my friend's home with paint, sculpting an abstract ceramic vase, photographing a mystical tree in the local park, or singing a song I've written in a local coffee shop on a Sunday afternoon.

But, these things don't generate cash simply on a dream, and like unlike dreams, they don't happen overnight.

In contrast to what I want to be... this is what I am: I am an unemployed single woman, with a college degree and substantial work experience in the management of people and business. Which, I must say, I believe is an art in itself. Effective leadership is a talent, and requires some pretty creative thinking at times. An ability to paint a lovelier picture than the one before you. To have the vision and the know-how to get there.

So what am I doing to facilitate the transition between what I want to be, and what I am? I'm planting seeds. Everywhere. A hyperbolic horticulturist. A brainstorming botanist. A gregarious gardener. I'm writing something somewhere, everyday. I'm reading something new... everyday. I'm researching careers... everyday. Networking with fellow "arty" friends. Networking with friends for work. Searching job postings, multiple times a day. Sending resumes, cover letters, and talking with my unemployment case workers.

Here is my predicament. The difficult decision and tangled web I am caught in. I need a job. I want a job. I have to have a steady source of income to pay for my house and utilities... and also fund my creative adventures. I'm enrolled in the "No Worker Left Behind" program in which you have two options: seek assistance in the "on the job training program" in which they help you to secure employment, OR "tuition reimbursement" in which they pay up to $5,000 for two years while you attain new job skills to help you secure future employment. But, it must be in one of their researched "in demand" fields. Most of which do not truly interest me, aside from Paralegal and Interior Design. Interior Design is something I've already done and truly love. I've had a handful of clients over the last 10 years. It's artistic. It's a passion. But, would two years of training really qualify me for a position with a large firm? And does that matter? I don't care to be working for anyone other than myself. But, how do I make this happen?

If I begin schooling, I lose my unemployment. If I lose my unemployment, I lose my house and my ability to sustain my life. If I begin schooling before I get a job, I have to pray that any job I find does not conflict with my schooling. And, the job would have to come first, because, like all of you, I have to pay the bills! If I enter into training that doesn't align with who I am and what I long to do... I've just erased any and all progress I have made with soul-searching and seed planting... and I've just put myself in the same miserable position I have been in for the majority of my 36 years!

So obviously the job comes first. And unfortunately this hasn't been an easy obstacle to overcome! And I must have a job that leaves enough free time to continue on my creative path... and allow for schooling if I chose that option. Do I chose that option? Is more education necessary to get where I want to be? I love to learn and want to learn any and everything I can, but I also know that spreading myself to thin and stretching bits of me in many different directions that conflict with the one I desire to go in, just creates a mess! So do I chose job assistance and skip the schooling? What is the answer here?

The Empty Chair...

I have sat here... in this same... old... hard... cold...

uncomforting, uncomfortable chair... for twelve hours. Half a day. A lifetime. Lifetime of feelings. Conversations. Words. Said. And unspoken...

And

I

Am...

Mourning. Frustrated. Sad. Hopeful. Desperate. Needy. Full. Empty...

All at once. And...

All

Alone.

In this empty chair...

An Absolute Mess

I am an absolute mess.

A product of my own destruction. A scattered, shattered, all and nothing that mattered mess.

Here's a photo to prove it.

The Big Fat Fucking Mess

Now I've gone and done it. Fucked it all up.

I can't get into all of the details. I'm still spinning and sick with the dizziness. Already uncomfortably brewing with too much coffee on an empty stomach before I got the message from C.F.

The message.

C.F. and I had been intimately chatting and sending photos for the last six weeks. And we had finally met. It was electric. Pure. True. And right away, I was afraid. Afraid for all of the cliche reasons... afraid to be in love, broken-hearted. But also afraid of feeling something that most likely would have to end... and I didn't want to ever have to let it go... so I almost didn't let myself begin to feel it.

But I did. And I do.

And now... he's afraid. Justifiably afraid of the consequences of our feelings. Of us meeting again. Of us being more than what we can handle... because he's involved with someone else. And if he holds on to me... he inevitably has to let go of her and his life. It's a mess. A fucking mess. And I want to talk to him about it so badly, but he's afraid that we can't meet. We were supposed to meet tomorrow.

I can't make sense right now. Not of this. Not to explain it. Can't make sense of what I feel... and I can't try... because our relationship was a secret. So I am stuck here... with this bubbling, explosive mess... trapped inside my sickened stomach. Alone.

And to further scatter the wreck and confusion that is me... Mr. Irishman called right after I got the news, and asked me if I was okay. I just said no and that I couldn't talk about it right now. So... I have to add to the mess... and not tell him the truth. Not tell him that I'm basically almost in love with someone I can't be with, but that I love him too. God. Typing that just completely paralyzed me. It doesn't seem possible. How could that be? How could something so entirely fucked up even possibly happen? And why am I so torn with convincing myself that it was stupid to begin with, and feeling like the honest reality is that we can't help who we love, or why we love them. And damn't... we can't isolate the tangled web of the world that sometimes keeps us away from where we want to be... and who we want to greet us when we get there.

Fuck.