Oh dear, what sort of self-absorbed psychobabble shall I emit this particular evening? Update...went to Madison from Wednesday through Sunday. Good time with the fam, got too drunk one night, did some yay, watched a bunch of people smoke crack (no thank you) at an after party, hung with the ol theater troup a little, watched cable TV, chilled at a warehouse show with some old friends and a lot of punk strangers moshing about, played with J@na and Sc0tt's kick ass blue pit, spent a lot of time in cars, played some eukre & some hearts, slept a bit.
Came home on Sunday and P made some yassa, we fucked. I pondered Gabe, Jeremy, my behavior, my future plans. I think from what I read I can go to France without a VISA if I have return tickets dated prior to three months after I leave. That should be enough time if I just want to get a feel for the place, and maybe I can just overstay my welcome if need be. Don't know, don't know. Looked at various jobs on www.idealist.org... Maybe I could go to South Africa for a minute, has to be lots of interesting work going on down there. ...My cuz is moving to Portland in January. Maybe if he's still there I can use that as a starting point for travels. Kind of scary to travel alone, no plans. I'll definitly have to save up some funds first, have some emergency contingencies for getting home if need be. V states that the type of jobs I'm looking for probably won't care if my resume has a big hole in it due to travelling, probably she's right.
Just living, living you know looking for energy looking for art, at art, wondering about my social time my free time. I don't seem to have as strong a need to get out and hang with society when I am alone in my apartment. Alone alone, no Ponge no TV. P-dog works nights all this week, seems a good time to get some thinking done, some expression, some research, some organization, some music-listening, some hermitting, some masturbating. Amelia invited me to a show on Wednesday, I am afraid to go afraid I'll drink too much, stay up all night on a work night again. Probably if I don't call Gabe I'll do okay, have to save tryin to hook it up again for the weekend I guess. Last time I left it alone so he & Allie could hook it up (wonder how much more that would have made me check myself if she lived in Mpls)? Self-control and all, responsibility and all. I function okay at work on little sleep but worry everyone can smell boozahol on me and that's no good. Mmm chaos. Chaoschaoxchaox.
Maybe this Friday I'll go see Aeon Flux.
Is there such a thing as emotional stability? Is there such a thing as decisiveness? Is this something a thinking and feeling someone somewhere has accomplished? Maybe I haven't moved that much physically lately but I sure has fuck have been all over the board in my attempts to define my life and what I want and who I want and how I want to get there.
I want that breakthrough, that change that feels so good and right you are excited even to pummel through the difficulties ahead. P and I ending our marriage kind of felt like that, though we are still so tangled in our lives that this feeling wore off quickly turning to anxiety. How to navigate the thick and tempting sludge of a terminated relationship?
Sometimes I feel so beat down, like these past couple years stole my soul, stole something from me. In the land of life's hardships I've had but few, yet something in me feels kind of killed. Killed and waiting it's rebirth? What is it that feels so missing? If I can't identify it how can I possibly seek it, heal it? Is it my balls to the wall I am who I am certainty? How has doubt managed to so thoroughly snake it's way into my decision making processes?
Perhaps it's as very simple as being lonely, lacking just one soul in whom I can confide, absolutely. Someone to make plans with. And with whom I can share life experiences. I have this in my family, and Carrie, to some extent - but they are stuck in Madison and I don't want to be. I don't have this in Ponge. Maybe it's that for three years now I've been fakin the funk. Pretending (to myself as well as others) he and I have so much more in common than we really do, deadening with the guilt of all the time spent away from him. Dragging along with the weight of a dead relationship in denial, perhaps one that never should have come to the United States. I always thought I'd never regret it, thought I'd always wonder what might have happened if we didn't at least try. Now I'm not so sure. I think I'll have to wait ten years before I figure that one out.
Ah, therein brings Time. Time is my friend and enemy. A teacher and punisher, Time. Ten years from now, will I just be angsting about a whole other set of stressors? And why do I feel like such a fuck-up? Realistically I'm doing a reasonable amount to secure my future. I just want happiness and social justice work and a few material comforts.
Maybe ending it with P felt so good because it, at least, among everything else, was a decision. I actually made a solid choice about something. Fuckity fuck fuck. Well at least most people know now, and there are few others to break it to. My dad. The people at work. People who don't really need to know right away.
Well, enough of the continual self-examination. Time to re-read this obsessively, smoke a cigarette, and clean the apartment before P gets home.