too much coffee puts emphasis everywhere

busy times. new job; returned to a bookstore and am immensely happy about it. can't wait to organize the entire second floor. classic sci-fi; wow (in all the wrong ways). no really though, there's a sense of peace, i can't explain.

meeting a person to talk writing, too. AND was called about an art show i curated last year. they've started planning for this/next year. that callback happens tomorrow, as does the call back to the houseowner for whom i am dog-sitting over the winter, needing renters for another house they own. i love how i somehow became the informal rent-realtor in my community. i really do fill that role and i really do love it.

exhausted; spent last night dancing. we were a small troupe descending upon the dancefloor. we smote the music. today is official "fuggedabout verb tenses" day. don't wish youda known; acted now!

SF has been a frequent visitor of late. he and i came home from the club early to discover batman (my roommate who has recently moved beyond toddler and into kid) had woken up, so we watched movies and read books and talked the amazing stuff deep kids think about. remember when dreams and reality weren't so clearly divided? i barely remember but batman reminds me.

i think there was an actual reason i was posting, but maybe these notes are all there is. off to mixed media sources i go. oh, and this comic. for optimum pleasure regarding social anxieties and social interaction in general, fun with labels and beautiful sarcasm, start at the beginning. i've been clicking for days, and i'm up to 2006. zing!

another buddha in the un-making

regardless of how much or how little i am accomplishing, there is always the list, just off in the distance. the list is unfinished, filled with tasks i haven't yet seen to, and capable most days of making me feel resistance, depression, and low self-esteem. the list defeats all sense of personal achievement, saying to me "you can't relax yet, you haven't --- ".

Special Friend mentioned reading about the dichotomy between thinking of oneself as a generally accomplished/good enough person, and the activities i set myself to either keeps me up or reduces my worth (ie, i'm a good person but i did a bad thing, oops) OR, opposingly, seeing oneself as not good enough, and the activities i do might help make me 'better' (sounds suspiciously like some forms of religion, just sayin').

i know, for a truth, that i spend a lot of my time trying to erase my nameless guilt (apparently, humans feel guilt when something bad happens to us, even if it's an accident or a natural disaster. damn, those religions have easy feeding). i feel tired, anxious, like i need to keep up with my sins. then i rebel, which looks like doing nothing. then i feel useless, which makes sense given my foundational argument of activity increases worth. repeat cycle endlessly or until severe breakdown occurs.

even my attempt to 'solve' this problem is not outside the parameters of the problems itself: i ask myself "what can i do?" doing. is that the only answer i can come up with?

damn meditators probably have it right. of course, times i would benefit from stillness the most are the times i can least achieve it. still, even ten minutes of focused nothing-doing (the difference between my rebellion and this is definitely the focus) probably helps provide the beginning of an alternate route to the ruts of yesterday.

absurdity and its freedoms

coming out of a depression is a wobbly affair. fresh legs are uncertain, new skin untested, the ways of the world feel unfamiliar. i try and take it easy; don't stay late at work, keep a steady pace, drink tea. build towers out of the play-blocks in our living room.

pet the cat. eat salad. breathe.

occasionally, i feel pulled to one side or the other (i'm worthless, there's nothing here for me. no, i'm priceless! i should be a star! and i'm not, oh, it must be my fault. *and so on*) of the equilibrium. i've noticed another interesting thing about the state of depression: its insistence on absolutes. that's a big part of how it gets me, i think. not that things suck, but that this is exactly how they sucked last time, and they'll keep on sucking, and there's nothing i can do about it. cue doom music, except don't bother, because the awful silence following such a 'realization' is worse.

a big part of feeling better is remembering that "this too, will pass."

it's kind of amusing that that expression seems to bring happy people down. oh well. the same folks probably don't understand why i find existentialism so refreshing.

despair, angst and a meaningless world: it's all we have. sweet relief pours through me (really? no tests? just this? wow).

note: this all ties in with self-forgiveness. it's okay that i'm not a star, i'm still awesome in my own tiny ways, and besides, people are mean sometimes, it's alright that i don't want to parade myself in front of them. reasonable, even. yes, so i am forgiven. time for my current favourite tea.

do it. dooooo it. the forgiveness, i mean. not the tea. (unless you like it. i'm not usually a fan of fruity tea, but this one somehow doesn't taste gross.)

cloaking, uncloaking

finally, i feel rested. after staying up all night: hours working on the computer, closet, basement storage and crate of thirty-odd journals all re-organized, clothes given away, dishes washed, 6am random conversation with roommate had...

of course, now i'm drinking jasmine tea as the sun rises, so who knows if i'll make it to bed. in a way, things are just getting good now.

although i haven't made it to work for almost a week and feel guilty and broke, and even though i've been restless, feeling gross and losing sleep, in a way i've really enjoyed the last week or so. i've started some new things, done some great healing with my body through yoga and trager, let go of a lot of old crap (literally and figuratively), finished several books and mostly, just enjoyed the unfolding that feels impossible when i'm at a job regularly. something about speeding up for other people... maybe to get away from them...

in being by myself, i've gained some incredible perspective. i had forgotten why my life is difficult sometimes. it's because i don't like what's going on around me, which is something i respect myself for. not that i'm unhappy, hell no. but that i want more fairness, more consciousness, more honour. and i'm working for it. and working for it doesn't always have to look like facing the world. (i can moon the world too.)

as well, gifts of silver spray paint make being a renegade more fun.

and as a renegade/warrior/emotional ninja, i probably don't need to worry about sticking out, being uncomfortable, rubbing people the wrong way or feeling frustrated. it's par for the course.

wanna stay home? do it. wanna go out dressed in lacy black or bright orange or fairy wings and talk with strangers? do it. wanna walk away in the middle of a conversation? do it. (ohmygod really? what if their feelings are hurt?) at the end of the day, i'm the one who cries in bed because i feel so crushed and frustrated under the weight of other people's unconscious desires & aversions, hidden requests and unknowing manipulations. i would very much rather drop their bullshit and work on shedding my own. so that i can sleep at night.