chicating

but it's one of those things that doesn't help very much.
And, you know, everyone has friends that don't write back, and, probably, parts of their life's work that have changed a lot since they started doing it.(Maybe you feel left behind by it, too, like I do)
And plenty of writers submit and get faint praise back.
But this might have been a lovely week for even one of those things to be even slightly different, and yet? None of it is.
(And that is before you get to the persistent drought that sits where my social life should be. and the fact that my life could literally collapse around me and it wouldn't stop my mother from trailing me with another fucking sandwich.)
And it's weird being a burden that still wants to prowl because she was too diligent in college.(And at least, that got me a ten-dollar vocabulary nobody likes it if I use...definitely worth seven years of even *my* youth, which also contained nine months of allergic facial blotching--during which I missed maybe two days of classes--my future, dontchaknow--I could have ditched all of it. Nothing on this Earth mattered less than my education, which is making the IDEA purists mad at me because I'm not fighting hard to keep my biggest regret alive. But I would tell any crip student to their faces that you should do your major only if you love(okay, really like...don't need to spark a mass exodus) what you study in its own right. Not because of Making Connections or some alleged million dollars that your gimped-out ass will only see on streaming one day. maybe.

Rashida Tlaib and Cori Bush shared a 50th birthday yesterday so they had a fundraising roast yesterday that was fun, at least for Zoom. Her comms director said he didn't have grey hair in his beard until Rashida said "Impeach the Motherfucker, Already"

that was all chatty to a friend coming out in midlife.(if I'd paid attention, I'd have probably noticed T. is gay, but I thought he was just, like, a dramatic straight guy.) Which is fine, too. Wished him well in his newish life.
But I guess T. will not woo me to Small Midwest State and make an honest woman of me>(Not that I want to be there exactly. But it was something to imagine that is not here, which at times is enough to make that super-exciting.) But I guess the current that occasionally flowed between us is fellow-feeling, not true *chemistry*, but even so, it would have been inconvenient to access anyway.
Why can't people here who are not witchy-looking party chairs be excited to talk to me? Being this unnoticed in one's hometown is like the feeling that your mental deodorant let you down all the time, ie. Not great.

It is thought-provoking, but also kind of a brain-buster, too. It also kind of reminds me of those Clinton-era jokes about not knowing what "is" is.(Apparently, philosophy shares that trait with the law)
I wanted a challenge, but maybe this one was a little tough, as it feels like reading from translation a great deal of the time...maybe if I'd taken a class with it I wouldn't feel quite so at sea.I'll hang in for a little while, though.
Otherwise, my doctor thinks my vital signs are great--wish that meant I felt more vital and alive, and my boss keeps begging me to get on the phones again and I'm kind of hiding out from it for no really good reason.
It's just that...he just gets me all fired up and once I get down to it, there's no point.I'm calling machines to invite people to the same stuff we always have.(And something about talking to a near-stranger's AI assistant SERIOUSLY chaps my ass for some reason and puts me into Pesci vibes."I'm a clown...you're too *important* to talk to the likes of me." Argh...why it feels so much different than a machine, I'm not sure, except that a recorder can't pause for the whole "I'm not here," thing, right? a fucking blender can put me on-hold...damn, the future is awesome. And, you know, I've only gotten paid for campaign work a handful of times, so, you know, I'm working for passion and mission, mostly(and the vanishingly small possibility that my life might improve one day) so without it, I've smashed my ear and wasted an hour. So I went to M. last month and was like "If you don't need me anymore, just tell me, I get it. You don't have to Make Me Feel Useful, in fact I'll hate it if I catch you doing that(Long story, but voter contact is getting more automated and so I can't keep up with the most exciting stuff anymore. Boo!) So it kind of sucked when he responded with "You've earned the right to step away(sic) if you want." Which, like, okay, but I heard it like a single mom hears that the kids just love hanging out with Tiffany from the typing pool.
I wanted him to tell me I was too great to lose, but he also, like a lot people thinks I'm delicate.So every complaint I have ends up with "your health comes first," and all that, which probably makes him a great Real Boss to the organizers he's training and such, but is not, at least not entirely, on-topic for me.
Also, I wish something great would come into my life so "stepping away" wouldn't feel like "being a chickenshit" but I guess after twenty years being a little bored is to be expected?

I start doing stuff that doesn't keep my attention, much less anyone else's(Does my opinion on the memoir all the social-justice geeks are writing about really matter enough to post? Thought so yesterday for a couple hundred words, but now? Not sure.)Or I could work on the crossover fanfic for some, in TV years, long-dead television that may only please one reader, ultimately, even if he's an important one. Do I do it anyway, and hope the thought that made me smile comes back?
Labors of love without the love are just kind of hard. Which has also kept me off the phones for a bit too.(Although maybe I'm just bored with that...it's been about twenty years, off and on, but the next level, or whatever, generally comes with commitments I can't satisfy.


Coaching or mentoring, or other things like that that you do when your life is together in a way mine will never be, as evidenced by the fact that having a password on a sticky was a minor victory this morning
Of course, they are filling in potholes around here for the last few days--hard to concentrate in the good old home office, but of course as a chair user, I support filled-in potholes, naturally!

Up to the wedding in the JFK junior show...I had *such* a crush on him in college.Really like the depictions of Carolyn, too, though--just what I need, another dead friend.Especially one who would always be cooler and better dressed.

If you get a chance and don't mind sentiment(or musicals) you might want to stream "Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist" which I missed during the pandemic. it's cute, but also pulls your heartstrings too.
thought I'd be back here faster, but some virus or allergy attack had me literally sucking on a lozenge for week so, you know.
WIP: A revamped version of "My Friends Think I'm Crazy", which I'll put a sample of under a cut.
( Read more... )

my stomach was *so upset*--although I've always been...kind of the type, the last few times have been more intense. Do not like.

But January this year was partly nauseating(Even as it picked up at the end) so this should represent a step forward.

people are still trickling in from their holidays, I guess. Kind of a lonely feeling when your festivities are the same few people...kind of doing the same stuff. But it was okay.
Skipping the last zoom of the year to finish a writing sample for a workshop I picked as a gift that starts 1/20. I don't have to be done till 1/11, but I get tired of all the Zooms anyway...a few times a month is more than enough.
Reading a fascinating book about LA in the 1960s...it's something of a tome and I'm on page 34, but it seems promising so far!(Wishing it wasn't quite so physically huge so I could take it around, but if that's my biggest gripe then that is truly a great book, right? But I'm not going to overfill the office again.

might end up missing some of them, but it was getting like one of those closet gags in here, for real.
now, at least, if I get some books as a present, I won't feel like I need to dig out and stuff.(My brother buys me books, but he doesn't exactly get my taste.)
Changed my google password because it gets me into yahoo, often. Wrote the new one on a sticky like someone really old instead of just, you know, beginning old.
Am I clearing things up for a new beginning or cause it's all over but the shouting... verdict's still out.