Flighty Randomness

Do you ever have those days where it seems that either too much or not enough is going on and you therefore cannot concentrate? That’s pretty much where I am. Only on the too much side this time.

1) My old friend and manager, who used to come to my cubicle and whisper, “Someone farted in my office!” and then leave contacted me last week out of nowhere. She, of course, wanted to send me a flatulence joke. The woman has known me for thirteen years and, when I told her of my recently published novel and ensuing (disturbing) lack of motivation to write more, informed me that I am essentially whining. She told me that she knows it’s something I want to continue to do, that I am a good self-promoter (unless it’s serious or I have done something big), and offered me advice on how to deal with negativity. As usual, she was completely right, and I feel somewhat invigorated.

All this from a fart joke.

2) Thanksgiving is this week. The last time I spent it with family my aunt made dinner. While I appreciate the effort, I would rather have eaten wallpaper paste. I’m not sure that I didn’t. The ham was dry and tough. Ham jerky. The turkey was somehow slimy. The cranberries (which I abstain from in the best of situations), were actually expired, meaning she somehow found a can of them I can only assume was buried in a time capsule from the 1950s. I love mashed potatoes. Generally speaking, they are amazing. These mashed potatoes, however, tasted like wasp paper. I wasn’t sure if I should eat them or build a nest.

I have declined the invites to Thanksgiving since then.

3) I moved into this lovely apartment last February. Due to unforeseen circumstances, I was stuck without a roommate and with very high rent and very little money to do anything. In the interest of not being poor and being able to save enough to (likely) move out of state next year, I have come to the conclusion that I must rent a room. The only place in the area I think would be good is with my friend/ex/possible future boyfriend and his more established roommate — an older man who owns his townhouse near my work. It’s to save and within a year to move. It’s a place which will make my goals attainable.

Yet, the idea of going from living alone to living with two roommates, one my ex, the other a conservative, Republican, older gay man chafes me.

4) I’m a stubborn idiot, even when it comes to things which will benefit me, Consequently, I am simultaneously getting on myself to set up a schedule and start writing, and inwardly throwing a tantrum and refusing to do so. Still, as I mentioned above as the result of a fart joke, I think that will change soon.

Balancing that with having to pack (again!), changing my address (again!), putting my extra stuff into a storage unit, cancelling my utilities, essentially living out of a room (again!), having to deal with telling certain friend(s) to shut the hell up about the decision, all during the busiest season of the year at work will be…unpleasant.

Because my brain is a perverse, probably demon-possessed thing, I will probably wish nothing more than to write during this period when I will be nearly unable to.

5) My job. January through April is an extremely busy time of year (people require many pigs to launch during these months), one which makes all the other months look like dances around the Maypole. For the first month I am looking at 10 hour days, six day weeks, possible illegal amounts of caffeine and Advil for my aching, typing, exhausted wrists, and an involuntary hissing when I see the building I work in. Still, the pay is good, the overtime plentiful, and I don’t know many who could turn down being paid to work their asses off…while listening to audio books, music, and the blessed silence I will get when my seat is changed.

I haven’t been able to celebrate New Year’s Eve with proper abandon in years. Still, it’s all working toward a goal, and if I ring in the New Year while packing, at least I know that it will mean a better New Year and a huge step toward my ultimate goal.

6) Alas, it is late. I go now to sleep and to a respite from my worries. Hopefully stupid Pandora won’t wake me up with some random shit music like it did last night. Taylor Swift, gleefully trashing an endless line of beautiful ex boyfriends, came on for the first time EVER on my Pandora station. I literally woke up saying, “What is this awful shit being pressed into my ear canals?”, pressed the thumbs down button, tore my headphones out, and went back to sleep.

Have mercy.


~ by Darren Endymion on November 26, 2013.

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