"western union desperate"

it was a good day yesterday.

not because all of the bullshit went away, because it didn't. i wouldn't believe if it did, anyway. i kinda view this part of my life as some sort of unpacking, where shit springs out from under the bed to be dealt with, and instead of stuffing it back under the bed, i have the time, the energy, the support and the inclination to actually try and make it stop.

i ended up heading to B&N, and i realized on my way there that soon i won't have to deal with a perpetually empty apartment anymore. I'm sure Wary spends time at the apartment, her car's usually there when i go to work, but she's gone by the time i get home from work, and i'm asleep by the time she gets home, so we run into each other every couple of days or so.

i read half of a Mercedes Lackey novel, then ended up purchasing it and heading home with it and a really cute abridged copy of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. I've never read it in its entirety, or even cover-to-cover in an abridged form, only sections, but everything i've read out of it has been fun. (by my own special definition of fun, of course). so, yeah, biggest dork ever.

i want to be done worrying about my teeth, and the logistics of moving, and getting a new job, and concentrate on things like waking up to light every day and tattoos and beltane and falconridge and meeting junkyard and the good stuff. but it feels like no matter how good a mood i find myself in or i put myself in, every day has this sort of low-level anxiety attack component to it, and things like not hearing from light throws me all out of whack. and i start to think something's wrong, though the worry is entirely amorphous, which somehow makes it creepier.

which makes me stop concentrating enough to balance what i'm working on, which makes me more anxious, which makes it harder to think about numbers, which....

yeah, that.

"western union desperate"

it was a good day yesterday.

not because all of the bullshit went away, because it didn't. i wouldn't believe if it did, anyway. i kinda view this part of my life as some sort of unpacking, where shit springs out from under the bed to be dealt with, and instead of stuffing it back under the bed, i have the time, the energy, the support and the inclination to actually try and make it stop.

i ended up heading to B&N, and i realized on my way there that soon i won't have to deal with a perpetually empty apartment anymore. I'm sure Wary spends time at the apartment, her car's usually there when i go to work, but she's gone by the time i get home from work, and i'm asleep by the time she gets home, so we run into each other every couple of days or so.

i read half of a Mercedes Lackey novel, then ended up purchasing it and heading home with it and a really cute abridged copy of Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. I've never read it in its entirety, or even cover-to-cover in an abridged form, only sections, but everything i've read out of it has been fun. (by my own special definition of fun, of course). so, yeah, biggest dork ever.

i want to be done worrying about my teeth, and the logistics of moving, and getting a new job, and concentrate on things like waking up to light every day and tattoos and beltane and falconridge and meeting junkyard and the good stuff. but it feels like no matter how good a mood i find myself in or i put myself in, every day has this sort of low-level anxiety attack component to it, and things like not hearing from light throws me all out of whack. and i start to think something's wrong, though the worry is entirely amorphous, which somehow makes it creepier.

which makes me stop concentrating enough to balance what i'm working on, which makes me more anxious, which makes it harder to think about numbers, which....

yeah, that.