And on the seventh day

It's been a long week. The ex and I work together, and our office is a big old house near downtown. Spending eight to nine hours every day in the same house as someone you never want to see again, while trying to do your job well and stay focused, well, it ain't the easiest thing in the world.

I should be able to work from home soon, however, so that'll be a nice luxury to take advantage of every once in a while.

Sorry for those of you I've rainchecked plans with in the last couple days. I'm just worn out. Tonight it's chinese take out, a hot bath, and a book.

Turned Inside Out

Today has been the most fucked-up, shocking, heartbreaking, absurd, and terrible day I may have ever had. The person I love most in the world used all my insecurities, weaknesses, and personal issues to wound me as best he could. Like telling an anorexic person they look fat. He went for the jugular. He refused to give me back the key to my house, so I had to leave work and change my locks. I spent the day in a baffled "WTF?!" mood, stunned and in disbelief that this was happening.

Now, I'm just hurt beyond words.

It's Fuck This Shit O'clock

I can't bring myself to work any more today.

With each passing day, week, month, and year, I tell myself that I need to get back in school. I need to jump paths to a career that I want, not one that I happened to have stumbled into ten years ago and have been doing ever since. The thought of doing accounting five days a week for the next forty or so years makes me shrivel up and die inside.

Problem is, I'm still not sure what I want to be when I grow up. My passions and dreams just aren't feasible. I'm not smart enough to be an astrophysicist, sadly. I don't know if I can devote eight or more years to school so that I can teach at a university. The only one that might be within reach is a photographer. I don't need to be famous or have my pictures hanging in art galleries (though that would be nice). I'd be happy just so long as I'm behind my camera lens, whether I'm taking pictures for a newspaper or at a wedding. Problem with that is, there is no shortage of talented photographers in Columbia, and with digital photography becoming accessible to just about anyone, it's a lot easier to be a good photographer than it was when everything was manual.

That said, I've never taken a photography class. I've just been told I have natural talent and an eye for composition. I'd like to see what I'm capable of when I actually know what I'm doing.

In the meantime, I've ordered some course catalogs from local universities. Because this:

cannot be my life for the next four decades. I won't survive the tedium.

Destination: Porch

It was such a long, intense week. I got five hours of sleep between Sunday and Friday, and all the stuff that happened in between is now like a series of blurry photographs. You can make out smiles in most of them though.

I have been granted a weekend of perfect hammock swing weather, and by god I am going to take nature up on her offer.

Hoping Joe comes over with his selection of French 60's pop rock to lay down the soundtrack.

Square One

Joe and I talked yesterday for the first time since the fight. It started on instant messenger as a "Hey, I need to get this from you" kind of thing, and evolved into a real conversation from there. He came over after work, for what was to be a 10 or 15 minute talk, that lasted two hours. All the cards, all the truths were laid out on the table.

We're not back together. We started out as best friends, and we were losing that. And we wanted to get it back. So we're starting over at the beginning, as friends.

After that we went to his place for me to pick up some stuff. I tinkered with the accordion I bought him, trying to fix it, we talked about instruments and music and his neighbors and just shot the shit, in a more relaxed, easy way than we've talked in a while.

Met Ashly back at my house, with Joe to follow a half hour later or so, bearing pizzas. I said to Ashly that in a surprising way, I felt relieved. All the tension, the walking on eggshells, it was gone. I had my best friend back and it felt like it used to.

Joe made it over and we spun records, ate pizza, talked, and laughed. Lots and lots of laughter. It was a great night. One of the best I've had in quite a while.

Ashly left, and Joe and I just chilled on the couch, all smiles, listening to Elizabeth Cotten, content and chatting. "Do you feel... relieved?" he asked me. Seems like we're both on the same page.

It's the right path. It's what both of us needs right now.

FACT: The blog is back.

Ironically, it was Joe who told me not long ago I should start blogging again. If anyone ever read this thing, I expect you've long stopped checking for updates, so I might as well get it all out here.

Once Upon A Time, not too long ago, I fell in love with my best friend. In the beginning, it was everything I'd ever wanted (and given up on so long ago). I skipped through the days leaving unicorns and rainbows and sunflowers in my wake. I smiled until my cheeks hurt. I won the boy lottery. I was beautiful and sexy and cherished and loved.

Then a Thing happened. Something dark and slithering wormed it's way into my fairy tale, as they are wont to do, as written in the old days. It was a scary, serious, uncertain time. It brought us even closer. For a time, we were like two astronauts, tethered together, the two of us alone, looking down on the world.

Then he started to drift. And the days were no longer sweet, but an aftertaste, fading ever so slowly. There were more fights. There was more time spent together but apart. The roller coaster began to rock and pick up speed. It wasn't of his own volition, really. The dark and slithering thing was still there.

He never looked so surprised as the day I told him sometimes I didn't even think he liked me.

We got off the roller coaster. We got back on. It rattled on loose hinges, going dangerously faster, until last Thursday, when it finally flew off the tracks and exploded in spectacular cinematic fashion.

By now, I have conquered all the peaks of pathetic. I have cried as he took his things. I have gotten emo all over facebook. I have written him a letter, throwing myself at his mercy. He wants nothing to do with me. I have behaved like a kicked puppy.

I'm passing into the next phase now. Whatever you call it, bleak and empty, like a desert - nothing happening, nothing to look at, but sure as shit ain't nothing can sneak up on me. I haven't slept in days.

I consulted my Voice of Reason. He gave me two pieces of advice. One - endure. Two - install a hipster alarm, because they seem to be no good for me.

I am enduring. I am treading water.

I miss my best friend.

-344

So my 366 day project turned out to be more like a 22 day project. It's hard to feel inspired every single day, but I do want to get out and take more pictures. Having sold a single photograph for over $300 was one of the best feelings I've ever had - but I don't do it for the money. I do it for the feeling I get when I know I've got a really good shot - the color, composition, everything is just the way I want it. It's a satisfaction I can't really compare to anything else.

Joe and I went to Brunches for our weekly ritual of stuffing ourselves with breakfast until we need to be returned to our car in wheelchairs. Mmmm, pancake coma. I ought to be going in to work today but I'm feeling awfully full and lazy.