there and back again, over and over

[threeplusfire]

I don't know what it is exactly. My desire to write about myself has waned in direct proportion to how much time I've spent in therapy and how hard I've pushed myself to transition recently. Maybe it is just I've used up my emotional current. I'm also writing a lot of fiction and that tends to consume me. Why write about my ordinary life when I could be writing about the end of the world, cities at night, the strangeness of found families and the stained glass heart of the story.

There is also the deadlands that LJ is in large part. I refuse to let go though. This has long been a home for my heart. There are so many voices I miss.

The hardest thing about this amazing future is how far away everyone is. The people I want to hold the most are not the people who even live in my city.

I went to bed early last night. A far cry from last year where I drank way, way too much and don't remember much of the night. This year I went to work in the freezing rain instead of spending my entire day throwing up in the bath tub. It's been a year since I quit buying cigarettes. I smoked probably half a dozen in 2014 and I still count it as quitting. There are times when I miss it. Mostly when I want to hurt, to hang onto that ache in my chest. This might be the year I largely give up drinking. I can have one or two with dinner, or maybe one in a social situation. But no more drinking until numb to my fears.

"Maybe this year will be better than the last" is a line from a Counting Crows song, and it applies. I did some good things last year but only after I fucked myself up pretty hard. I am working on overcoming the shame of it.

I still don't know how anyone gets out of bed in the morning in the face of the overwhelming horror of existence and mortality and the fragility of it all. I make myself get up but I don't know why. I wish I did. We just go on until we don't any more.

It is a couple degrees above freezing and wet. I have a can of pineapple, two cans of chickpeas, some eggs and not much else food in the house because I haven't cooked all month. It's okay. Everything is going to change real soon now. I kind of want to go pick up fast food, and then eat in the bath tub.

For Christmas I finally caught up to the rest of the world and got a Kindle. It is going to be an expensive hobby. Our Christmas was nice. We ate a fancy dinner at the lobster place down the street, which is my favorite place. Delicate oysters with meyer lemon, a chicory salad with hazelnuts and crab toast, a roasted lobster, and coffee poured over hazelnut gelato with Pernod and several glasses of wine. We opened our presents with glee, and then I went dancing. It was a good time.

Tomorrow we're celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary in the most specatacular way possible. A marathon of all three Hobbit films, followed by all three Lord of the Rings films. Complete with a nine course meal served over the twenty hours of film time. So we will be in the Drafthouse almost a full day, wandering in Jackson's vision of Tolkien. I'm pretty excited. Then on Sunday, as a chaser, a marathon of Nicolas Cage movies also at the theater. I bought a ticket for a Monday night screening of Michael Mann's Thief as well. Because why not at this point.

Comments

[in-thy-bounty.livejournal.com]

Happy new year!

Don't give up the deadlands... we neeeeed you maaaan!