| Now |


31 May 2008, 01:00

I tried to sleep in a bit. It’s raining, so I’m never going to get the backyard mowed, never going to get the mower fixed. I’m going to have to do SOMETHING. This is a thing at which I feel paralyed in making a decision. To hire someone to go out there and cut down the jungle? To try and deal with it myself? Tonight I slept a good six hours, only waking up twice (11 pm and 4 am). I think I’m past the insomnia and into the waking sickness of stress. My stomach is in knots just about all the time now – I am ACTIVELY fretting about concrete choices I have to make. I am seeing all the forks in the roads. Tomorrow I head out YET AGAIN FOR NORTH CAROLINA. I am missing dogs when I don’t have them around. I am waiting around for decisions to be made that effect me and the fucking house. That is the worst thing about this whole situation. There are things happening around me, about me, that I have to let happen. I have no control over them. They all have so much control over me though. I hate that.

Fork number one: Asheville or Raleigh. The city, culture, and a place to live is in the Asheville choice, but all the really great employment opportunities are six hours away in Raleigh. I really don’t want to lose the potential place to live in Asheville. How many folks have a decent place to live and would offer it to someone with four dogs? I was down about being jobless, homeless, unanchored. Until about Thursday this week. I’ve had 4 or 5 inquires for interviews, 4 or 5 responses from resumes (you’re on our radar, we are filing it for the future, we will be reviewing resumes first week of June), and I had THREE more creative placement firms contact me and registering me (I’m being put up for employment as we speak I am told). I never knew there were placement agencies just for creatives like me. And so many. And so many that will give you a free lunch. I had to make a choice and commit to an area though. I have tentatively chose Asheville.

Of all the inquires, and responses, only a few have been from the Asheville area, which is disappointing, so I chose the best potential offers of the rest (most all of them came from Raleigh and the RTP area) to schedule and pursue. For example, there is one interview I’m going to for a 6 month contract (that could be extended) in Raleigh, $25 and hour of which the recruiter said they could offer more to compensate relocating to Raleigh. This would allow me, and here’s the crazy part, to rent in Asheville, kick back to the mortgage in DoDah, and rent CHEAPLY in Raleigh. I don’t want to lose that place, and I really want to land in Asheville. I love the city, and I would find a home there – I would feel comfortable and safe for a while. There is a lady who owns a printing company and some copy shops that received my resume – she was impressed with it and wished she could afford me – she wanted to keep it on file, and said that the only thing she had open right now was basically an opening in one of her copy shops. It would be the equivalent of the chef at New York’s Four Seasons going down the street to work at Starbucks. Okay. Close to that, and more a long the lines of me working at a kinko’s. My, have the mighty fallen. But I told her of my situation, of what happened to me, that if I were to take the job, it would be a survival thing and I still would be pursuing something – and she understood, and basically offered me the job, and the highest pay they could manage. So. It’s income. And its about 40 minutes away from where I would be living. So, as anemic as that sounds, its a place to live and a job. I wish I could convince the giving-me-a-home lady to let me sign a six month lease.

So pride goeth before a fall. And if you want something bad enough, you will do almost anything to make it happen.

And for some reason, that seems slightly like a sign to choose that road – but I’m not closing off the Raleigh/RTP avenue. There is just too much opportunity for someone like me out there – if I were to get a solid, good (great) offer, I think I would have to take it.

Fork number two: The crackerbox. My mechanic, who is the greatest mechanic in the world – fucktard, I find a GREAT mechanic, and I’m moving – recommended his son-in-law-realtor to try and sell my house. Apparently he’s really good at it and goes the extra mile to do it. I can try it, and explain that I can’t bring any money to closing and the worst the SIN-realtor could do was laugh in my face and say no he couldn’t do it. I have leasing people coming in end of June to do what they do – get renters in. I have to talk to them. I have to talk to a lot of people, it seems now a days. My first and worst instinct is to pack up and leave the house for the wolves – let what happens, happens. Not the thing to do, not the grown-up thing to do, not a good move to do, I know. It’s all just wearing me down.

I feel ill. It’s a constant slight ache in my stomach now. Well. RIGHT NOW, it’s doing flip-flops. So I am suffering from bad sleep and ulcers now I guess. I’m getting excited. I’m getting shaky. I’m always worried. And, I maybe fooling myself, but I think I’m seeing a little road ahead of me. I just wish I didn’t feel like I have to puke.


Something is always right somewhere in my life, when I turn back to Collective Soul

She Said by Collective Soul

Life’s river shall rise, she said
That only the strong shall survive, she said
But I’m feeling quite weak, she said
Will you comfort and forgive me, she said

  • later *********

Adam came over to pick up a whole lot of stuff I sold him. Adam is about 27, married, just had a kid, and having another one. He’s building his dream house. He’s just now ramping up a life to something quite spectacular – or spectacular to me. Maybe it wouldn’t seem so to me in the position I am in now, but at this point, I’m jealous of the security and path he seems to have. I’m told I will have something spectacular soon too. Somehow, I can’t really see it yet. Bits and pieces? A little here, a little there.

Anyway, he trucked a great deal off, and I am emptying out the living room. The books I’ve collected, and the last two pieces of furniture I sold him, I’m trucking out to the garage – the last staging area before things go away. Again, the chest tightens, and I look at my house. MY HOUSE. The house that was home. And it really still is home to me. I can’t seem to not care about the dream of my home dissolving like this. I’m crying now. Alone, in MY HOUSE. My home. I am the wasted and the weary right now. I can’t seem to just casually let this go right now. I ache. On the verge of a new home, a new job (such as it is) and the new life, I find I’m holding on so tightly, not wanting to let go of my old home. So many people have said so many things to me to try and make me feel better. And to be honest, almost everything they’ve said works to strengthen me, at least for a little while. So many people THINK they know what I must be feeling. And to be honest, they don’t, but that’s all right. Most of the time, they overestimate me. In the simplest terms right now, I hurt because my home will not be mine anymore. It is not an intellectual thought. It is a thought of a child who is taken from home and doesn’t understand why. I know I understand why, but this seems to be divorced from the raw feeling of hurting and of the ache in my chest. I’m all ready starting to ache for the dogs I’m going to be leaving here in 17 hours. Fracktard, I can’t have a drink because I need to be lovely for my long drive tomorrow. I keep telling myself I’m strong enough to do all this. But sometimes I stumble.

Tonight I am stumbling.