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Jul. 21st, 2015

I just want to do at least five things at once.

Third day of my weekend, and it's so strange to have free time, I'm tricking myself into thinking I can do EVERYTHING in one day.

I've been so scattered, I haven't been able to just write down a too-do list.

  • Practice accordion
  • Sew Uhura collar on my Redshirts shirt
  • FINISH some of my backed up sculpey doodads
  • Draw things
  • Contact people about business stuff on all ends
  • watch multiple TV shows
  • find a studio to join so I can work with metal again
  • shop for kilns
  • search for supplies
  • Watch a zillion movies
  • Modify preferences on new laptop
  • inking
  • sewing
  • woodworking
  • metal
  • jewelery
  • get a new bike

Anyway you get the idea. Wonder what the html's gonna end up looking like, there.

stoned entry

Stressful couple of weeks. I had given my boss two weeks notice almost two weeks ago, but it seems he thought I was bluffing or something?

It's not a really dramatic situation. I just want to get the hang of saying "no." It's a sweet gig, house painting within biking distance. I'm gonna feel so spoiled in retrospect.

This is just an "I could to better" move. All I want to do is make sculpture. My life is defined by quiet observation. I'm filled to bursting with information that needs to be processed. I want to make sculpture out of construction materials. Not building actual houses, for construction companies that would pay me, but non-standardized impressions of construction that are not certified for living in, just observations of the materials we use and surround ourselves with all the time. Concrete, wood, brick, mortar, plastic, steel.... impressions of furniture, and rooms, and chimneys, and windows. Just large enough to squeeze into and experience. Spaces like I would want to discover while wandering through an old part of the city. I think that could be wonderful beyond words, and people would really love it.

It requires permission to use public space, and funding for materials, and almost definitely people with the know-how to construct them.

Um. I don't know where that came from. Well except obviously from my building things and having that be a means of expression when I couldn't work with paint or whatever. Ugh. I'm almost resentful of how much I love the idea.

Got a laptop recently, my first one in a couple of years, and I'm just so overjoyed at having a keyboard again that I had to blog something.

Pip, pip.

Oh! Here's my art tumblr, more griping and way more pictures therein:

Well it's about time you had video hosting, livejournal. I would've loved that when I was youtubing.

Reading back helps. Whew, for real, man.

I'm feeling the need to decompress and verbalize and pin things down again. Jason is.... well, still around. Still kind of a dick. Still really sorry for being a dick and wanting to change and be good for me. But there are still so many warning signals, that if I weren't in so deep I should be running away from.

He'll yell at me to open up to him. What the fuck do you do, then? He'll start fights when he's staying over, and refuse to leave. He'll relentlessly criticize my driving when I drive him places-- What the fuck am I even doing?

To top off the insanity, he wants me to move to Pittsburgh with him. Out of the blue. That is the biggest abusive relationship no-no in the book, isn't it? "Let me isolate you from all of your support sources and make you solely dependent on me in a strange new place! All the people you know here are losers, anyway. I know what's best for you." HAHAHAHAHAH. Fuck.

But my knee-jerk reaction wasn't "hell no." I want to move my stuff into storage, and come over to visit the place. I'm essentially unattached anyway. I keep on saying, "I could use a change of scenery." But I'm not predisposed to move all of my shit there. What would I be without these snow-capped mountains and craggy shores? Washington isn't Alaska, but it's the only northwest I've got right now.

I need a wake-up call, that's for sure. What I really want is to take this trip in a way that isn't insane. Moving across the country with my estranged boyfriend is insane.

But at least he's listening. Or trying very hard to. I asked for a phone call tonight when he gets off work. The last thing I've wanted was his requirement of talking in person, which entails "inviting" him to stay at my place, which he will not leave if I were to ask him to.

I'm starting to feel like sort of a pro at this thing of dealing with emotionally draining people who just won't go away. I've learned that I really am incredibly resilient and tolerant, and that's kind of what attracts them. All my life I've wanted to get away from people, but as a survivor of a high-density living situation, sharing a bedroom with two sisters, with three brothers in the other room, I'm equipped to cope to a degree that many people just aren't. If it weren't for being raised Mormon, I'd probably be a complete sociopath. But maybe if I were an only child, I would feel more yearning to be social.

....okay. Back to trying to be an artist for a living, I guess.

"It's Not Fair."

I wonder if I could vent at you once again, dear journal.

I have been feeling sick and sore and unable to cope, and restless to accomplish things while I have a couple weeks of unstructured respite, before another scheduled exhibit changeover at the Science Center. I could be making some more money actually, which would be very welcome, but while I'm a sicky mess it would be beneficial to work on Life at the moment.

J has finally, FINALLY moved his stuff out of my old room, out of my life. Last Friday he came through, bought me dinner, sorted through his stuff, got his own storage unit, and gave me a few sheckles and heaps of praise for my trouble. As it should be. Now I can reflect on our relationship as more a thing I can CHOOSE to deal with, after years of feeling forced to deal with it.

I am exhausted, lonely, still conflicted. being treated nicely and fairly is incredibly hard to take when unfairness has been the standard for so long. I've called it the Quasimodo Complex in the past, when a simple kind gesture leaves you sobbing uncontrollably, realizing how your life has actually been kind of awful, or at least not what you've been wanting. it was okay to complain.

I'm in a relatively good place to recover at present, just not quite there yet. Eager to be fully functional again, weak but impatient. Mom is making soup. Ex (ex? Ex.) is eager to make any reparations necessary. I am glad for that. I'm still bound to him, and it's still difficult to try to sever those ties. once that's properly done, will that warm ready friendship still be there? I feel it's all that I have sometimes, but not enough. it's sad.

I told him he doesn't have what I need. Close, but no cigar. I won't stop feeling lonely, either way. when I've been crying lately, it's not over a break-up, it's over not knowing how to find the kindred spirits I still haven't met yet.
Took J to see a movie, which he partially slept through. Since it was a period drama about maths and early computers, I was rapt. Thank god they didn't end on Turing eating the apple. I would have fallen apart, which is why I hate dramas.

And also THANK GOD there was no sex onscreen. Thank god it wasn't a Cumberbitch fanservice in any regard. And thank god Benedict can play a spectrum of real-life geniuses. Like Sherlock.

So I'm not quite sure how I feel about Jason yet. I hope we never have sex again. No matter how desperate I get.

I want to say nasty things about him, I want to dump him repeatedly to the fullest extent of humiliation, but it wouldn't be all that satisfying, knowing how much he has hated himself already. The coolest exterior, in this case, covers some deep-running emotions.

My post didn't upload half of it wast saved, because livejournal was offline. remembering why livejournal isn't so great, after all.

Just sorting out... J. I am underwhelmed by him, as usual. he was very stoned. I'm unsure why I have bothered all of this time. if I wanted an easy target, this should have been easier.

Whatever it is I want in a partner, it just isn't there and what is there is not worth enduring the bad stuff for. he's barely there, anyway. in my head I know that I'm loved, but I don't feel it.

I'm alternating between despair that what I'm looking for ist out there, and confidence that there are kindred spirits I still need to meet. in school? where?
Oh, what a charmed life I lead. Let me tell you about it.

It appears that most of my life has been lived out of bedrooms that weren't really bedrooms. And that's pretty much how I've wanted it. I am SO stingey, I can't even conceive of paying for a completely finished rectangular space with certified electrical outlets and regular bedroom windows.

The last "real bedroom" I lived in was off of Killingsworth in 2007. Before that, not including my shacking-up stint, it was the last unfinished corner of my parents' garage, which we'd sectioned off into the parents' bedroom, laundry room, and den. What remained as the tool room still had a roll-up door. So I could open up my bedroom on a nice summer day, reading in a bed-turned porch bench.

There was also a mass of bent nails hammered into the ceiling, for no apparent reason. While finishing and painting the walls, I took the time to paint the nails individually, muppetizing them into multicolored worms with googly-eyes and feathers.

Anyway, after Killingsworth and couch-surfing was the dining room, converted into a secret 5th bedroom. The arched entry way was covered to look like a complete wood-paneled wall with a shelf. a candle-stick above the shelf pulled a peg out of the floor, opening the door.

The rent was dirt-cheap, but the creative tenant..cy was falling away to increasingly unsavory characters.

Currently, I reside in a half-shed with built-in closet space and a bed platform. it's alright. the electrical outlets appear to be improvisational. but it's cozy, it's mine, and it's all that I want.

Out of my tiny "studio" I can live my life how I choose. I don't make much money, but I can save more, and cook, and party, and play, and sit at my drafting table, emitting critters from my fingertips.

Someday, a corny finished apartment in the grey suburbs might be the place for me. I'm not sure to what extent I take the "city life" for granted. Sure I'm indoorsy, but there's thai, indian, brazilian, japanese, vietnamese, and delicious ethical coffee one block away. As far as I can tell, it's awful nice, and I love my friends.
20-year-olds, 40-year-olds, same fucking deal. Only less fucking.

And that's all I'll say about that.

Appreciating my boring little life. It feels like letting my eyes adjust to the dark, seeing stars I'd never noticed before. Endless, intricate beauty.

It sucks, being so easily overstimulated. I realize this has been an ongoing theme in my life. I just want to curl up with headphones and listen to the same comfort-song, over and over.

That said, I feel I've been rather heinously bitchy lately. Mostly internally. Tapped out of dopamine. Wandering aimlessly. Angry at humanity for not checking itself. Everyone's a phoney.

At least when I'm this kind of depressed, as it levels off, it makes dutiful work easy. I don't want anything, so I don't spend money. There's nowhere I'd rather be, so I might as well Work. My budget is $7./day. I had gone for weeks, thinking "if only I had seven dollars." at least this way I can provide that, after rent and bus fare. student loans? HA!

At least my roomies are nice. Quirky, but nice. (Thats ME saying that.) I am enduring this life style if only for that.

The kitties are nice, too.


hello again, Me.

So I'm almost there, not just talking about myself.

What's really great about being stoned beyond the capacity to regularly function, and operating on your most basic needs,is being willing to admit to what those are. you're listening to your actual self, and giving what it asks and sometimes, you remember and recogize that glimpse of yourself when you're sober, and realize they've always been there, with the same sort of tastes and inclinations, as a baby and on upwards.

There are few things more fascinating than getting reaquainted with oneself. so I'll put a pin on it there.

In Which Comeuppace is a Bitch

But like they say, karma is only a bitch if you are.

I'm the one left without a squeeze for wintertime while the (former???) significant other figures out his shit and refuses to talk to me. how long do I wait before starting to date again? Should I be secretly dating someone already to complete the parallel, would that be gratifying? When I'm ready to give someone my best, and carry my own baggage. I heard somewhere that dating is supposed to be fun, not just having someone to dump your angst and fluids on.

Seven years ago. All I wanted was somebody new and interesting to walk through parks with. who wanted to rip my clothes off. Basically. That's what relationships WERE, before the shitstorm. When you're in a decent relationship, with no expectation of lifelong commitment (or scarring), you don't always appreciate it. when the one you're with is who you confide in... and there's more fun than duty keeping you together.

How long have I been kinda miserable? well when was the last time I felt single? what's the difference now?

When I go dancing or walking or musicking alone, I'm not leaving someone else behind. When I'm at my desk making art, I don't feel like I'm ignoring someone in my bed, or the movie they're watching. I can jerk off whenever I feel like (100% more action since he left)!

I'm being bitchy. I can be utterly kind for about five minutes at a time- if it doesn't pay off, bitching resumes. or at least passive unkindness. But, I can't help feeling that I've been treated unkindly. I want to try to justify the treatment. I also want to feel righteous and indignant. but not that much. I have the occasional breakdown, and then I'm fine. I'M FINE!
"If you—the consciously empowered, self-authoritative, and free human being—won’t decide what you really want, how can you expect to attain it?"

Too true. I have been surprised and frightened by my ability to call down the things I want. "What will this cost?" I'm a magic miser.

I've already stated several times how I've generally gotten what I wanted-- and who I wanted, dating-wise. Perhaps too easily.

Consequently, it feels like I haven't been single in years. I've lacked resolve to be alone. It wouldn't be fair to others. How would they ever get by without me.

Perhaps I ought to go on a magic binge, after starving myself for so long, manifesting money and love and resources and creativity and fulfillment. That would be a good change of pace. And by that I mean creating good things of my own, not just enjoying the abundance of life.

And there's this depression. Part of me likes being kind of depressed. I ought to just hide under a blanket with some books until the warm weather returns. But there is work to do. I would bite my nails bloody, then destroy something. No, I need work.

The good kind of depression is where I don't want anything. Not even to be in bed all day. I wake up a blank slate, and decide I might as well brush, floss, eat only what I need, go to work. It's cleansing.

So. This is the part where I lose my place because I am typing through a keyhole.

So I need work. Manifest results. To get up early enough that my day is so long, I can accomplish all my personal things before 10:00 am, then dedicate the better part of daylight to outward things.

Well. Today I'm finishing a cabinet, possibly starting another, finding screwdrivers, and going to life drawing in the evening. No beer. It gets me down. It's important to write these things somewhere.

I need to buy groceries. Bacon pancakes, roast chicken and veggies, beef n barley soup...

This started out thinking about relationships, with an article about healthy and unhealthy ones and deciding what to pursue. I am notoriously indecisive. Today I ran into a high school acquaintance, who was warm and friendly toward me, but I gave him a cold hello and went to catch my bus. I don't want to be responsible for anyone's feelings. I really do just want to be alone most of the time. But one must deal with people, sometimes. They are good for things.

Seeing people from high school is a bit too much. How can one make reparations after so much time has passed?

Anyway. Boyfriend is out in the world, doing his thing. I had a bit of a freak-out, because he'd asked if I'd told my sister that we had broken up. I said no.... and when I hung up I wondered if he meant that we had broken up and whether I'd told her so. What the SHIT? I didn't trust myself to drive until he picked up the damn phone to clarify.

I'm a mess. Just. So much bullshit from people. Enduring it for so long. Nobody wanting to work it out. Like it's all in my head. Everyone else is fine. So what if I've been torn to pieces? Stop being hysterical.


...Dad just toasted a rice cake. He and Mom are doing a cleanse thing. Oh, man.

So yeah I guess J walking out and not coming back or contacting me for a week or so wasn't him "breaking up" with me in his book. So the world isn't entirely insane. We can actually talk about breaking up, then do it. I hope. This might actually be a first.