and this here is a pretty lil' piece o' land, just right for the pickin'

For this one night I have no pressing deadline. I do have bills, but I can't pay those till I get paid later this week so they don't matter tonight. I could do laundry or cleaning or any of the other tens of things on my mental list of "things I think I oughtta be doing", but you know what? I'm not.

Tonight I've attempted to watch Grey's, but that's not happening for various reasons. So instead I had it on Ace of Cakes, I cut out words & pictures in old magazines, I put away some clothes that have been sitting here since sometime a week ago when I laid them out to air dry. I am choosing to continue to ignore the hundreds of emails in my inbox because I still can't bring myself to care what might be in there. I'm using a can of Pringles and a jar of sand as my foot rests. (shrugs) It works.

I'm actually proud of myself for having enough money in my bank account to buy a new battery for my car (proud too that it lasted from October of 2001 till now) but the only reason I had enough in there was I was saving it to pay for my car registration renewal this week anyway. C'est la vie.

I'm back from Jacksonville and missing being in Rob's arms. A long weekend of holding hands and kissing and snuggling and now back in separate worlds. And it sucks worse than screaming children scratching their nails on chalkboard during a fire drill. Or something equivalent to being numb & depressed & angry & annoyed & tired all at the same time.

We drove to Tallahassee for his aunt Susan's service. I met more family there. She was a passionate & spirited lady who was a delight to get to visit with when we went through several times. Cancer took her body, but it didn't take her spirit. I love how supportive and caring and creative and supportive his family is. My own family has it's own way of being supportive, but theirs is a lot calmer and loving through all the generations. Mine, well, sometimes I feel as if I don't live up to what everyone expects of me, and that can be tiring in itself.

We took complete advantage of sleeping late, curling into each other and reading "Peter and the Starcatchers" to each other all weekend. Dinner with friends one night, dinner with his parents another, dinner watching the sunset on the Intercoastal another. Being able to say exactly what was on my mind, usually to hear him say the exact same thing. We connected and it felt so good. The hard part was getting on the plane to fly back, alone. Damnit.

Yes, the papers on my desk at work have been multiplying like over-caffeinated rabbits and has me a bit stressed in the hours I have to be at work and doing job-related things like answering calls and writing newsletters. Then there is the explosion that is the remnants of me moving furniture and art supplies around my room, as well as the leftovers of Airsho which I pretty much just dropped wherever there was an empty square inch. Soo, umm, yeah. There is plenty for me to do to keep busy for the next two months when I can see him again.

This whole financial 'crisis' that seems to be a scary big-deal for the rest of the country does not seem to affect us here in the oil fields of West Texas. We are a remote bubble in so many ways. I work for a non-profit with no benefits, so whatever was left of my 401k I cashed out in January, well, I have no idea if there is anything left at all now, and I wonder if I shouldn't have just cashed in the whole thing and done a few things my way at the time. That's what I get for not listening to myself.

Things will change here eventually, they always do. I keep up best I can at work, I try to keep up the article writing, too. And yet, I still have the itch to be working on something I want to be working on, to be making something, to be doing something for myself.

It's not easy. At all. But some nights the hardest part is when I actually prefer to cry myself to sleep rather than open a tube of paint or glue. And that's not right. Because I do actually remember a part of myself that would rather paint or carve or sand things till the wee hours of the morning rather than sleep. Something got switched and I don't know when.

There are things in this world that still give me hope. I look forward to finding them again. In the meantime I'll stumble along and ask for whatever guidance the universe is willing to send my way.

I have these thoughts, you see... I know they can be something, but I'm not sure what just yet.