A Little Bit of a Lot

I’m waiting for the second page of an article that “lawyer chic” sent me- nothing is worse than waiting for the second page of something to arrive. Maybe it’s that Starbucks has less bandwidth than I do at home, but I needed to get out of the house and do something, even if that doing something is searching for jobs at Starbucks instead of my bedroom/office. Since I didn’t get the youth director job, I’m focusing my search on both computer jobs and non-profits. Maybe they’ll marry- like IT for poor kids or poor adults. Like the mantra of FreeGeek in Portland, “helping the needy get nerdy.” I could very easily start up Evangelinux again, and that would be perfect because I could set my own schedule. The problem with that is not having a space. I might talk to the church about renting a room. That seems the most obvious place for me since I don’t drive.

However, I’d also like to be a part of the masses again. Not stuck in isolation while everyone else enjoys slamming coffee on the Metro platform as they’re running to work (well, as fast as the Metro goes, anyway). My perfect job would probably be in Takoma Park somewhere, so that Busboys and Poets was within walking distance from work and the No. 14 bus, which as I have said drops me off as close as the school bus.

The other thing is that a lot of the tech jobs are in Fairfax county, closer to my old hood than my new one. I would take a job over there, but my commute on the Metro and the bus would be over 2 hours and the traffic would be just as bad. There is no good way to travel in NoVa except Uber, because then at least you can sit in the back and get some of your work done in the car. It would be nice to arrive at the office and already have my monster of an inbox clear. I could do the same on the Metro if rush hour wasn’t standing in a can of sardines without the room to get out my laptop or my tablet, and I’m not proficient at touchscreens, anyway. As I told “lawyer chick,” typing on my phone went out with the Blackberry Pearl. She still has one. Maybe I should apply where she works. Sometimes being in the dark ages counts for a lot… even a Motorola Sidekick was better than the iPhone for me. If I could just get phone companies to listen to me when I say “don’t put the keyboard on the screen,” I would be very happy indeed.

Plus, who doesn’t miss Brickball?

As technology moves forward, I am finally old enough that I feel like a Luddite, even though I’m not. Between voice dictation and a little correction, I do just fine. However, I am MARRIED to my laptop with its full keyboard including number pad. I’ve also found a way to disable my touchpad so that it never interferes when I’m typing. It has opened up a whole new world of simplicity. I hated it when touching my palm in just the right way would erase a whole paragraph. CTRL-Z became a favorite of mine because I used it at least once every few minutes.

So now that’s solved. I got that goin’ for me.

Now that Argo knows what her present was, I will tell you. It was from Share a Coke, two bottles. One with her real name, and one with Argo. She has a fairly easy name, but with an alternate spelling, kind of like trying to find Katelyn instead of Caitlin, or Rikki instead of Ricky. I got to have a quick e-mail exchange with her and for now, I think we’re good. Peace offering accomplished. I told her I just wanted to get her something in the spirit of giving that said, “sorry I was such a bastard to you.” I don’t know how ok we are, but it was amazing how quick the rumination over the situation stopped cold. My mind freed up so much because everything was out of my control and I felt SO bad.

It feels nice not to have to worry anymore, because two things. The first is that peace is somewhat established. The second is that I carry that peace with me all the time. I do not have the capability to go back to where we were. I do not have the intestinal fortitude nor the want. I don’t know where we will go from here, but if that is the last communication I ever receive, I can wholeheartedly rest in it.

The ball is now in Dana’s court and has been for weeks with no word. If she doesn’t respond to me, honestly, good riddance. If you’ve been reading for a while, you know that she told me I would never amount to anything. I do not need or want that temperature in my life, and I also do not need someone in my life that I’ve fought with and sees it as all my fault. She says that she doesn’t, but her eyes say it all. Plus, she still acts like a child in front of her parents and she’s almost 40. When I acted like an adult, it was not received well. If I’d just stayed in my place, we’d probably still be together, with me being unhappy that Dana was willing to forego standing up for herself in favor of trying to fit into the mold her parents made for her. When I stood up for her, it did not end well for me, but ultimately she is closer to her family now than she was when we were together. I can also rest in that. I was able to say clearly to her mother that she needed to get with the program, and she did… to her credit.

The fact that Dana edged me out of the equation is not my deal.

What is my deal is trying to figure out who I am without her. We talk almost every night in my head while I’m dreaming, and then in my dream I try to hand her something or reach out for her and I open my eyes and I am utterly surprised she’s not there. It doesn’t bother me so much as I am annoyed that I still dream as if we are still married, but it’s not about romance, necessarily. Sometimes when my eyes are closed I ask her for a drink of water, and then when it doesn’t appear in my hand, I remember she’s not there. It’s only disheartening for half a second, because I want to move on so much. I want to be with someone like Argo, not because I want to be with her, but because I want someone that has her ambition and drive and her absolute fire and hilarity at the same time. I deserve that in a relationship, and it took meeting her to realize what Dana and I were doing wrong. We were the same personality type in two bodies, neither one of us able to drive the bus.

We were both Type B, and probably still are, although as I recover from my childhood emotional abuse, I realize that my inner Type A is showing more and more because I believe that I am capable of direction and delegation. When I got on the Neurontin and the Klonopin, my “ADD” went away. I mean, I am sure that I will always exhibit those tendencies, but at the same time, all of the things that I attributed to ADD that were actually trauma are being resolved one day at a time.

And on that note, it’s time to plan out the rest of my day. I think I need to go back to Macy’s, and I know I need to go grocery shopping. It’s been interesting how much I’ve avoided it. I don’t like crowds. Today, I think I have the strength, because when I woke up this morning, I pissed excellence.


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