This making your own way bullsh*t? Yeah, sometimes it sucks.

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Ya know how sometimes you just get so tired you just start crying? It’s possible that was Friday.
After The Plague last weekend, I really didn’t get a chance to recoup — I pretty much just went from Unable to Get Out of Bed to Work-Work-Work mode, and since I’d been out of commission for two or three days, I’d spent the rest of last week playing catch up.

So by Friday, when I was slated to go down to SD to do a practice for the Crew Classic boat I’m supposed to be in, I was totally just running on auto-pilot. Now, if I’d been running on all cylinders, it probably would have occurred to me that hey, it’s the morning of & we’re still short two rowers & a cox, so I should probably just call it & not drive down, but no no, I wasn’t aware enough for that & just kept on keepin’ on, and was half an hour outside of San Diego when the email came through on my phone that yes indeed, practice was not gonna happen — of course by this time it was 1pm & I’d already dropped the dogs in Long Beach, so I was pretty much screwed.

I did my erg, and I wasted some time & I rode launch with the Juniors practice, but basically it was like, well this is pretty fuckin’ useless. I started to go to Hoff’s house & was stopping to get myself dinner when I just… I cannot even tell you what set it off, but I just sat in a parking lot & reverted to being five years old – I was tired, I wanted to be home in my bed, and because those two things were not instantaneously available, I just started crying.

It was at this point that I decided that hey, I’m just gonna go the hell home. I went back to the boathouse, managed to get there just in time to get my oars back before they closed the place up, and made my way back up the 405 — between finally stopping to get something to eat (a venture far more successful when one does not start crying in the parking lot) and finding a parking spot in my neighborhood, put me back at my apartment around 10pm. (I’d decided to leave the dogs in Long Beach so that I wasn’t showing up at Mia’s Menagerie at 9pm at night.)

Upshot, I got everything in, had something to eat, marveled at the fact that in the time it took me to get home Callaghan got his ass a new car, (“Wait, is that facebook that you got a new car for real? I just left you like, three hours ago!”)… and then I slept for 11 hours.

I am willing to admit that in terms of commentary about my life, this turn of events probably falls into the category of “indicator”.

This making your own way bullsh*t? Yeah, sometimes it sucks.
There have been two prevailing thematics in my life — things that have just always been said to me since my childhood. The first was that I’d be lovely if I just lost a few more pounds, dear – but that’s a blog entry for another day.

The other being that I’m supposed to do things on my own. Large portions of my existence are self-taught, & I cannot tell you how often I heard before I became a full time freelancer that I needed to go into business for myself, that I had the ability to create my own world, etc & so forth.

You know what the problem with that is? You spend a lot of time alone, you’re the one that has to do all the work, and it is really fuckin’ tiring.

I have approximately… a bajillion things that need to be done right now. And yet, all I managed this weekend was to finish moving my urls over to my one GoDaddy server so that everything is centralized. Do you know when I’d originally planned on doing that? December. What is it now? The end of March. That right there should tell you how things are going.

My dog has cancer. It’s treatable, we’re going to the doggie oncologist tomorrow & hopefully one surgery & two weeks of woe-is-me recovery time later, Zoey should be fine. And I do not, for one second, begrudge getting her taken care of, because it’s Zoey, & those of you who know how things are for me & my dog know that she’s worth every penny.

Unfortunately, the only reason I have the pennies to get her taken care of is because I’d saved up money to go to Europe this summer on the first vacation of my entire life, and now that is not going to happen.

Instead, I will work. Because that is what I do. And there is no break on the horizon, just… more work. And there’s no way around it, or anything to be done for it other than to simply apply myself & get the work done, because I really need to move out of my apartment, and once Zoey’s taken care of I’ll start saving up to go on vacation all over again, and if there’s anything this has taught me it’s the value of pet insurance so I should get some for Ernie too, not to mention that the 2011-2012 tax cycle should probably also include getting health insurance for myself as well.

Now, I certainly don’t begrudge the work — after all, it wasn’t that long ago that I was valeting for three different companies & sleeping in my car in parking lots on the weekends so that I could eliminate the time it took to drive home & get a full three hours of sleep before practice. I just… it would be nice to not always feel like I have to do everything alone. Sometimes it would be really nice to crawl into bed & have someone else there to snuggle with. I mean, I love my dogs and I know they love me, but at the end of the day they are dogs and I am alone. And while for the most part I learned to accept being alone pretty much since early childhood & have had enough crappy forays into attempting a life that I know work is the best focus for me to have, every so often there’s that day where you just want to sit the universe down & ask why it is that everyone else gets to have a life & I just seem to get more work.

But for now, it’s four hours before I have to drive to LB to do my workout for the day then take Zoey to her new vet for 11:15am, and I still have to sit & get caught up on the emails & work that I didn’t get done this weekend because my body decided it would be great to shut down two weekends in a row. Tuesday, we’ll talk about things like group meditation, making tomato soup, & my incredibly geeky iPhone keyboard case, so tune in next time kids – same bat-time, same bat channel.

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  • http://www.candlemarkandgleam.com Kate

    *snugs you tight*

    Hang in there, sweetie, and know that I’ll be thinking about poor Zoey. What a trouper, that pup of yours. She takes after her mom. ;-)

  • raithen

    so, ya. Work. It’s fun, right?









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