*Groan*.

I’m on instant coffee and not enough sleep, with 30 minutes to get out the door and a 7 day work week  in front of me. A-Yep. This is a good change, ultimately, but right now is one of those ‘Life is what it is” moments. I’m getting too old for this…

Cat

The Challenge.

So here I sit, with stuff to say…but I can’t. The challenge here is to be truthful, without being honest. Or perhaps transparent is a better word. I dunno. I suppose this is what artwork is for; to express the things you cannot say. But I really can just say what I mean, which has cost me. And the artwork I enjoy most seem to scare the shit out of people. Which has also cost me. My work isn’t scary. It isn’t gory. I suppose one could call it edgy in some cases, and even then, I don’t really think so.

But yeah, stuff to say. I’m filled with a lot of want tonight. Which is maybe another way of saying I feel empty. Which is not to say I feel lonely, just swollen with things I want. Eff it, I don’t know. You get to decide what I’m trying to say. I live in a place that collectively doesn’t have a dark side (or so I think). So it overreacts to anything it hasn’t seen in a J. Crew catalogue. Even when it pretends that it’s cool and progressive, it calls its mom to schedule its doctor appointments. Despite the fact that it’s in college.

Mmkay, I’m not sure if that will make sense to anyone but me. But then again, I never am. I suppose of all the wants I’m suffering from tonight, the want for my own space is the most vehement. Presently, I live the house I grew up in. Don’t ask why. Among other things, I can’t find my way into really living in my own shoes. I lived alone long enough to know how those shoes should look and feel. The shoes I have on are a different expression of Cathy. One that is no less true than the one I miss, but it’s not my favorite. These shoes may even belong to a Cathy who is more genuine, as they are a product of the life that was the foundation for everything that came after. But I don’t like her as much. Don’t ask why, squared.

This is enough, I’m thinking. As I feel myself slipping into thoughts I promised myself I’d keep offline. Even when I’m being as rawly honest as I’d like, it never fails that somebody somewhere feels they know enough to draw a conclusion they are not entitled to. I’m not so simple that any amount of social media will reflect who I am, in my real life entirety. I should hope that nobody is, but I’m not sure of that.

Mmkay. Going to bed. Two days and counting till new job and new hours. I think I need to rediscover meditation to manage all this want properly.  Peace out and good morrow.

Cat

Countdown.

So this coming Monday, I’ll start a new job. Which is awesome sauce, since this is the first time in …8 years I’ve had a position that isn’t entry level. But I kinda have a sad tonight. A strong case of Short-Timers has set in, coupled with some apprehension. I’m working on being a better editor of myself, so I won’t elaborate.

Welp, Scandal is on now. So I’m going to hit pause for a bit…

Okie-doke, it’s 4 hours later (I think). I’m feeling better too. But I’ve largely forgotten what I was planning to talk about. Probably that I’m missing some people. Once you’ve known someone super colorful, it’s hard to see anything but gray once you’ve parted ways. I used to be of the mind that you can exude the aspects of the missing person that drew you in, as a way to not miss them as much. But that can’t work every time. That’s all. It’s just time to find new colors I guess. And try to not compared them to any old ones.

Rudderless Wonder.

This may be something nobody knows…or that maybe everybody knows, because I’ve said it before, and forgot. But it’s so very me to tear out pages of a journal and destroy them. I have this fear of dying with a record of the things I really felt and thought about myself. I mention this, just so you know that my not deleting posts any older than this one, is me trying to grow. Just a little.

But yeah, I’ve been away. I don’t even know for how long, and I’m not going to revisit my older posts to sort it out. I gotta be in the now in order to go forward. This page was password protected for a long time, because I was applying for jobs and/or promotions. Call me crazy, but I’ve come to believe that one’s online presence (or lack thereof) really does have an influence on employability nowadays. And if such a time comes, when my livelihood depends on someone’s idea of me, as opposed to the truth—I will do the same.

That search only went on for a month or so. But to my best guess, I left this site for at least a year, because I just plain had nothing to say. Not to anyone. Not even the all the nothingness of The Void. And truth be told, I’m not sure that I do now, but I feel like beginning again. That’s all I know.

So where am I going with all of this? Good question. This won’t sound good, but I enjoyed the freedom that came with giving up on most of my goals. Life is easier when you get all zen, and aspire for nothing more than the moment at hand. Which is not to say some of those moments aren’t sad, painful, madding, or regrettable. But the are what they are. And they are all that life really is. I needed to go there for awhile to process my grief about my personal failures. And clear my mental canvas to dream some new dreams. They may look a lot like my old ones, but the lack of intention makes them new to me. Coupled with the acceptance that I can’t (and won’t) create for anyone but myself has left me feeling ready for whatever.

I won’t keep you long tonight, because I’m so in my head, and I’ve put nothing on paper. But it’s time. I’ve got the wind in my sails. So let’s be off.

Anchors away,

Cat

Spacey

I’m a little mad at myself tonight; but I’m making tangible process. This week got bad for it that, because my weekend got divided, and I wound up sleeping half of today away. Plus I have to report to work early tomorrow, so a short-day into long-night session of work isn’t possible. My job is too hard to do tired, and fucking up can ruin someone’s appointment, er visit, or home care. It doesn’t feel good. Especially when it comes to hospice issues, but I digress.

I’m watching “House Of Cards” tonight. I just watched a young actress bed Kevin Spacey. You could tell it was going to happen eventually, but I am no less…stunned. Who I think if fuckable and who’s not isn’t the point here (OMG WordPress just took my ‘fuckable’ and turned it into “faceable’ which cannot stand). It seems like a lousy idea for the character. Now she’s got leverage on him. Or does she? Is it the other way ’round? Am I giving sex too much credit in this fiction? Now I’m interested on a new level. Especially since his wife has an old lover in the plot, who I bet few ladies would turn down. Oh, Drama! Oh snap, she’s calling him as I watch…

Anyway, I think I came here with a point…or a promise…but as I’m 1-2 swigs away from too much to drink for a weeknight, and just going to pack it in. I haven’t been on top of my art work, but I’ve been thinking. I’ve decided to rewrite the opening to the story I’ve been working on; for the sake of a better idea. It has to be a free write to start with, and I’m a little scared to do that given the inspiration. But I think this is right. It honors a mental burden I’ve been carrying, and need to put down. And it connected the end to the beginning, in such a way I can’t constantly reconsider.

For now, I’m hitting the sack. Watch Mr. Spacey get his groove on with a young reporter…taking her unmentionables off.

A little known fact about me…

I listen to Peter Gabriel’s “I Have The Touch” damn near daily. It’s one of my favorite songs, and it happens to be on right now. This isn’t news to anyone who knows me well; I have a weird fascination with 80s stuff, and Peter Gabriel (at the time) sonically captures this notion of a future that never happened, which I find compelling. Kind of like when you look at old posters for The World’s Fair. “Red Rain” Peter Gabriel can sit the fuck down, but this younger one…I dig.

I have precious little to share tonight. It’s just been awhile, and this is one of those unfortunate stretches of time when life gets in the way of what I want. I promised myself I’d be out of this space by the end of the summer, but I’m a behind. Meanwhile,I have a visceral need to unpack my suitcase. It’s an introvert thing, that I heard on a Ted Talk once. Mine is heavy, and  quite ready to house new ideas. So the old ones need to move on.

Tonight, I have no interest in spinning wheels, because I’m sure I’ve written about all this before. And I dislike the refrain of being an excuse maker who can’t get shit done. I have to sleep now, but I’m setting a somewhat silent goal for myself to get back on track by the close of my upcoming weekend. Which will be Tuesday. If I’ve at least started a new drawing by then, I’ll call it a personal win.

PS…I you think you have to go to the ER, go to the goddamn ER. Don’t spend time wondering about it. Or better yet, an Urgent Care, if you’re not about to bleed out. Colds aren’t something I seek medical attention for, but it happens. Just don’t wait until you’ve got some ridiculous shit on your hands. And vaccinate your kids. Disease fucking kills, and quickly at that. It will not feel good to buy a small coffin for over an aliment we have a simple shot to avoid. Let science to its job.

I saw “THX 1138″ and hated it, but this is the best version of the song I’ve heard online. The movie came out long before the song did, so feel free to ignore the visuals entirely. I’m going to keep my further opinions about George Lucas to myself.

Skinny Girl.

I put on an unpleasant amount of weight the last year or 2. I was lazy during winter 2011, broke my elbow spring of 2012, got fired my first and only position in my field in September, lost a loved one that November, and didn’t get back to work until April 2013. And it shows. GAWD. By way of fitness initiates at work, I’m down a good 10 pounds from when I got too depressed to keep weighing myself. And since then, I’ve lucked into a standing desk. But oy. I’ve still such a long way to go to be “normal”. Which is many 15 pounds heavier than I what I define as me, thin. I need new cloths like gangbusters, but I refuse.

My fat clothes are down from being super tight, to regular tight. I just have to keep trudging on…this didn’t happen overnight, so and I can’t fix it overnight either. My right arm and left knee are much improved after some group excercise I did this past spring, and I tried out kettlebells for the first time last week. Which I love; mostly because I can hold one anyway that’s comfortable. But fuck, I don’t like going out right now. As much as I want to.

I guess this is on my mind because I’ve noticed how if affects some people, when they came to know you a certain way, and then see you trying to changes into something else. Even if when it’s more true to who you are, and how you live. But in this, I won’t settle. I can already see how much harder it is to drop weight than it was 2, 3, and 4 years ago. This shit is a slippery slope.

All right, enough dilly-dallying. Gotta finish some housework and hit the bells. Peace.

Cat

Pictureless Mood.

Hi, how are you?

No pictures this week. I’m feeling fried. Not bad, but spent. Things will be short and sweet this week, as I’m still catching up on sleep. Assuming that’s even possible. But in general, I have been feeling better. After a lot of thought, and at least one awkward conversation, I came into a place of acceptance. It was tearful and inopportune, but it needed to happen. I’ve been a future junkie for a long time, and I don’t have the strength for it anymore. What I see is what I am. It’s not what at all what I wanted. And dramatic changes from it will be few and far between. I have to come up with new ways to become fulfilled in this small, cold, dull, and racist ass place. I’ve made my peace with never fitting into local culture, but I haven’t conjured some other way of making life interesting.

Ugh, I can’t even finish tonight. I have to lay down.

Andrologist.

The post title is of no significance. It just proved to be a frustrating point of my day.

Today was a rough one. There’s just something in the ethos right now…I took a lotta lotta mental health calls today, from folk seeing outpatient help. I even wound up being privy to someone’s breaking point. There’s enough feel bad to go around nowadays, clearly. The rest is the blur of CPAPs, BiPAPS, fasting labs, “who’s on call?”, post op med management, “the tube system in zone 30 and 31 is down”, “I really need more suboxone”…etcetera. I do a whole lot, yet very little all at once.

I got kind of down on my way home, on account of the day being so beautiful on a Friday—and me going home to do nothing. I rode home and wished that something exciting would happen. The bus had an accident a few minutes later. I know that was a coincidence, but I’m going to stop doing thinking that way. Still hunting for new perspectives to replace my outdated ones in the meantime.

Everyone was fine, BTW; but it was wholly unpleasant for all parties involved. All right, enough chatter. Off to bed.

Cat

Frown Upside Down.

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hypatia

Posting here has been good for me. It’s a few days, but I’m feeling less stern. And I actually looked forward to writing tonight. There’s no way in hell I’ll have something to say everyday, but this is a nice way to end these night shifts. There’s nothing to do, nowhere to go, no new emails or phone calls, and very little on TV (I’m off Adult Swim right now. Save for “The Venture Brothers”). Shifting gears into an artsy headspace is easier, and I can settle for reruns on Netflix for background noise. I don’t like needing a ride home every night but I’m okay with missing Miller Time in favor of a nightcap, a little BSG (yes, I still watch that) and a magical hour or 2 before bed.

The image above is what’s next on the docket for me. I have to rebrand a company called “The Hypatia Group”. The theme needs to stay with Greco-Roman characteristics, but I have to ponder how to make that look fresh and elegant. It’s not gonna look like the image above, because that whole black/white/teal/linear bit is my thing. I only have 7…well now 6 days to do it, so I’ll start exploring more corporate solutions tomorrow. I’m working with someone else for the first time in a spell. He’s a handsome bloke, but I’m not sure of his personality yet. Things feel a little Tarzan and Jane right now, and I’d prefer something closer to Scully and Mulder—different, but equal.

For the past 2 1/2 weeks I’ve been in training at work. My job is much easier to do than it is to learn. I only have one more day of it to go before I’m released on my own recognizance. I have somewhere between 2 and 5 months before I’m done altogether.

Lastly, I’ve come to realize I’ve become the sort of person who needs and audience. I think that’s the root of my discontent, and I need to reverse that (mostly because I’ve always disliked that quality in others). I’m going to try abstaining from posting on Facebook until my birthday. This space feels therapeutic because I don’t know if anyone will ever read this. And if you are (thanks BTW), it’s because you chose to. Most likely, you already know me and have some idea about what to expect. Not because I dropped an impulsive thought into your newsfeed. I will continue my quest to make people laugh, but I can’t be that emo person complaining whenever the winds change. There are too many people with real problems on my friend list. Like dead children, infant and adult. Disabilities. Mental health problems, missing spouses, joblessness, and whatever the hell else I haven’t heard about yet. My house is really messy, and I didn’t get the sort of job I went to school for. Single, childless, living at home, and 35-ness. Maybe people don’t like my pictures-ness. I can vent that stuff here without having to validate myself to myself.

Here’s some music just for shits and giggles. The fact that this endeavor can actually sound like my inner space deserves a little toying with.

Alright. I just buzzed enough to quit, and hit the sack. Pleasant dreams, Friend.

Cat