I haven’t written a whole lot lately, because most of the things I’m trying to process are unfit for publication. You would think that I would have no shame in this area, and I don’t. It’s just that I can’t tell others’ stories, only my own. The people I want to write about have specifically said to wait, so you’ll hear it eventually, just not “write” now. #baitedbreath
The long and short of it is that I feel hampered in a major way, because writing is how I calm myself, how I understand the world… but I also don’t want to hurt anyone by revealing information I specifically said I’d keep quiet for now.
What I can say is that I have a lot on my plate, literally and figuratively. I’ve had to eat a lot of ice cream lately. Ben & Jerry are saving me one pint at a time. Day before yesterday, it was Banana Split ice cream. I went for broke, when my normal flavor is Cherry Garcia Frozen Yogurt… to the point where Cherry Garcia ice cream tastes weird to me. There’s also a scoop shop close to me, so I have tried Empowermint, and it’s good, but not any different than any other mint chocolate chip. My favorite at the sccop shop is Chocolate Therapy, but not necessarily because of the flavor. I like the texture of the pudding against the ice cream. I wish they’d make more flavors with pudding in them, like lemon meringue pie… but no one asked me.
This is all just filler for what I wish I could say, but sufficed to say my life is coming apart at the seams. I briefly considered moving back to Houston, but not for any reason you’d think of in a million years. It has nothing to do with the Argo situation, nothing to do with my happiness here, and everything to do with what I can’t say when I wish I could. You’ll know in time, and hopefully your support will coming pouring in the way it always has.
I’ve told Bryn and Aaron what’s going on, and for now, that is enough. As predicted, they were supportive with virtual hugs and kisses, desperately needed. I wish Danni was back already, but I’ll e-mail her later. If you’re friends with me in real life and want to know how to help, drop me a line. I could use it.
The thought of moving back to Houston was a knee-jerk reaction, and lasted all of about five minutes. Because moving to Houston always *seems* like a good idea right up until I get there. It’s been like that for years. I cannot escape my past, and now there’s just so much more of it because I’ll be 39 in a little less than a month. My 36th birthday was the turning point, and how I realized I would never be happy there unless there were extenuating circumstances that required me to be there. For instance, I’d never abandon my family if they were in need of my support. And even then, I wouldn’t be happy. I’d just choose to focus on everything but living there. I can write from anywhere, and if there’s anything that the friendship with Argo proved to me, it was that I could live in Houston and completely escape it at the same time.
I could just live in the cloud and ignore the ground, because I don’t have anything tying me to it. It would be a shitty solution to a problem, but perhaps good enough.
For now, though, I need to stay put. The job market is better here for tech people than it is in Houston, and the last thing I want to do is move to a place where the job search would eat my lunch the moment I got there. I’d be waiting tables or working in a grocery store and I won’t go back to that life unless I have to make room for school, and even then, that would be quite a stretch, because I only have enough to cover one semester, so I really need to keep up full-time work so I can cover more than that.
I just met a guy wearing a Fedora oxford and I am so jealous I could spit. I think they need to change the logo, though. If it were a woman, it would look just like Carmen Sandiego. 😛
Remind me never to get an iced drink at Starbucks if I’m going to write here, because OH MY GOD AM I COLD. The air conditioner must be pumped down to 68.
And on that note, I think that’s all for today. If I think of something else important, I’ll see you later.