My good friend The Priestess is in the hospital. She had a severe reaction to some medication she was given to combat another illness. I swear that woman has some serious issues with her body. Rarely healthy. Anyway, it freaked me out a bit, but I got a card to her and have been watching the discussion surrounding. It sounds like she’ll be alright, it will just take awhile for her to heal.
We’re coming up on Thanksgiving. Dinner is at my sister and brother-in-law’s house this year. I’m not exactly looking forward to it. I am not optimistic about dinner happening at 4 when they say it will, and it sounds like there’s going to be a lot of people crammed into that tiny house of theirs. We’ll see how that goes. Not well, I expect. There will be kids there. I swear my own apartment is bigger than their house. And I’m not coming down on them about having a small place, but what are they thinking trying to cram a bunch of folks into it?
It seems like there’s considerable animosity between my mom and my sister these days. I’m not sure what that’s all about, except that my sister has been getting progressively bitchier these past couple years. She confided in me recently about realizing she has anger issues. But when I brought it up with her again, she said she’d pushed it to the back burner. So it would seem that it’s an issue she knows she needs to work on but isn’t willing to.
There’s starting to be some bubbling about another performance of my music at school. This would be on the end of semester concert. Not too much to say about that yet, but hopefully it will happen. I’ve done my part, that’s all I can say. Now to turn my attention to the next piece. I’m thinking of a string quartet.
Not much else to say today, I guess. Further updates as events warrant.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Monday, November 25, 2013
“Bad Third Date”
Oh. My. God. I am even loathe to write today in this space. Ya know, my online journal? Full of anonymous-ness? Even in the privacy of my own mind, I have a hard time with certain things, such as admitting to myself it’s okay to tell a woman I don’t want to see again that I don’t want to see her again. So let’s start back a few days.
The Goddess came up for our third date last Friday. I don’t want to even waste time with the details. Here’s the important part: she cried. As in sobbed, wailed, soaked the shirt I was wearing. We were back at my place, had watched a movie, and she came completely unglued on me. Fell apart entirely. This woman is clearly in a LOT of pain.
I held her, did my best to comfort her and let her do what she needed to do. I even told her at some point that if she was waiting for me to tell her to knock it off, that was never going to happen. And I didn’t say that, but I definitely decided oh yeah, this is so not gonna work. We finished off the evening, she stayed the night. The night was alright. No fireworks, but in all honesty I’m not sure how there could have been. I hate to say it like this, but I was pretty repulsed. Well, not repulsed so much as very firm in my internal decision about oh yeah, this shit is NOT happening. I made us breakfast in the morning and she took off back to the bay. She called me last night, but I didn’t pick up. I’ve sent her a text apologizing and letting her know that I’ll call her tonight after I get done with my composition lesson.
My mind keeps turning over all the different ways to say what I need to say, trying to find a way to balance my needing to tell her I won’t see her anymore with compassion and kindness, but still being honest. I hate having to do this. I really hate having to tell a woman I don’t want to see her again. And I hate seeing the pain it causes. The Stalker once tried to wield that against me—how could I possibly be a feminist or even just a plain old nice guy if I ‘hurt’ women? I told her that the possibility of getting hurt is part and parcel of relationship. It’s what we always take the risk of when we open ourselves up to letting someone in our life.
A woman who spends a considerable amount of time crying on a third date (and lets not forget how she did something similar on the second date) is not capable of being what I need in a partner. There’s no there there. Aw, maybe that’s unfair to say. There’s a lot there, a lot of pain in particular. But that’s not something I can do anything about, and in the meantime it means she’s not emotionally available.
The PhD was a crier, too. And The Stalker, in a sense. Neither of them as bad as the Goddess. The Stalker at least realized that what she was doing was inappropriate, and tried to calm herself down. When I tried to comfort her, she wasn’t interested, pushed me away. The PhD, for her it came up sometimes. She suffered from severe bouts of Depression, and I helped where I could.
There is a part of me that’s tempted to wax philosophical about how damaged we all are, and it is possible with love and kindness and hard work to heal (I consider myself an example of that) but as a wise therapist once helped me to voice: I need a partner not a project.
How do I find someone who is stable? Maybe the outward indications of stability—a job, a place to live—are even more important, are better indicators, than I realized. I don’t know. I’m frustrated. I’m a little disgusted. I just want to meet someone who I have some stuff in common with who’s mostly got it together and that I’m physically attracted to. Is that such an unreasonable combination??? But yes, this is of course what so many single people experience. There are plenty of single people out there, but finding someone who matches well is the hard part.
The Goddess came up for our third date last Friday. I don’t want to even waste time with the details. Here’s the important part: she cried. As in sobbed, wailed, soaked the shirt I was wearing. We were back at my place, had watched a movie, and she came completely unglued on me. Fell apart entirely. This woman is clearly in a LOT of pain.
I held her, did my best to comfort her and let her do what she needed to do. I even told her at some point that if she was waiting for me to tell her to knock it off, that was never going to happen. And I didn’t say that, but I definitely decided oh yeah, this is so not gonna work. We finished off the evening, she stayed the night. The night was alright. No fireworks, but in all honesty I’m not sure how there could have been. I hate to say it like this, but I was pretty repulsed. Well, not repulsed so much as very firm in my internal decision about oh yeah, this shit is NOT happening. I made us breakfast in the morning and she took off back to the bay. She called me last night, but I didn’t pick up. I’ve sent her a text apologizing and letting her know that I’ll call her tonight after I get done with my composition lesson.
My mind keeps turning over all the different ways to say what I need to say, trying to find a way to balance my needing to tell her I won’t see her anymore with compassion and kindness, but still being honest. I hate having to do this. I really hate having to tell a woman I don’t want to see her again. And I hate seeing the pain it causes. The Stalker once tried to wield that against me—how could I possibly be a feminist or even just a plain old nice guy if I ‘hurt’ women? I told her that the possibility of getting hurt is part and parcel of relationship. It’s what we always take the risk of when we open ourselves up to letting someone in our life.
A woman who spends a considerable amount of time crying on a third date (and lets not forget how she did something similar on the second date) is not capable of being what I need in a partner. There’s no there there. Aw, maybe that’s unfair to say. There’s a lot there, a lot of pain in particular. But that’s not something I can do anything about, and in the meantime it means she’s not emotionally available.
The PhD was a crier, too. And The Stalker, in a sense. Neither of them as bad as the Goddess. The Stalker at least realized that what she was doing was inappropriate, and tried to calm herself down. When I tried to comfort her, she wasn’t interested, pushed me away. The PhD, for her it came up sometimes. She suffered from severe bouts of Depression, and I helped where I could.
There is a part of me that’s tempted to wax philosophical about how damaged we all are, and it is possible with love and kindness and hard work to heal (I consider myself an example of that) but as a wise therapist once helped me to voice: I need a partner not a project.
How do I find someone who is stable? Maybe the outward indications of stability—a job, a place to live—are even more important, are better indicators, than I realized. I don’t know. I’m frustrated. I’m a little disgusted. I just want to meet someone who I have some stuff in common with who’s mostly got it together and that I’m physically attracted to. Is that such an unreasonable combination??? But yes, this is of course what so many single people experience. There are plenty of single people out there, but finding someone who matches well is the hard part.
Friday, November 22, 2013
“Doing Well In School”
This week at school has been a sort of check in week with my professors. Both of whom have given me really good feedback, say I’m doing well. That feels god, for sure, but I also don’t trust it.
For so many years growing up, I had my mom giving me praise. A lot of times it was in response to me getting bullied. And there’s also a bit of how this is just want moms do—like, all moms think their kids are the best and the brightest. There have also been issues with bosses, where I was praised not so much on a personal level but as more of a manipulation to make me do more, not so much more work for less money, though there has been some of that, but more like I don’t know, manipulation, dishonest, like it was them praising me it was them placating me. I’m not sure I’m making sense. Anyway…
For a long time too I had difficulty in receiving compliments. I’ve learned to not respond with false modesty. And I can take praise much better than I used to be able to, but still it’s difficult. Especially when it comes to something I care so much about. It’s so important to me to do well in school, and I very clearly am, but there’s still this element I feel about my professors shining me on. I know it’s not real, or logical, and that it’s just my head fucking with me, but it’s still there.
But you know, all analysis aside, there’s a simpler way to describe how I feel about my professors giving me their approval, and it feels like the old adage of ‘Too good to be true’. I’ve got so much of my hopes invested in this shift in my life. I’ve got all the fears about failure, not being good enough, not being capable, etc., and to hear them say ‘yup, doin good/great/etc’ just leaves me feeling like ‘really? Are you sure??”
I was joking with The Goddess last night about how more than feeling good about my success, what I most feel is relief. There’s a lot of baggage attached still to my feeling good about doing well at something I love and want for myself, but I can feel relieved about succeeding better than I imagined I would or could.
We’ll get to feeling good, though. Maybe even soon :)
For so many years growing up, I had my mom giving me praise. A lot of times it was in response to me getting bullied. And there’s also a bit of how this is just want moms do—like, all moms think their kids are the best and the brightest. There have also been issues with bosses, where I was praised not so much on a personal level but as more of a manipulation to make me do more, not so much more work for less money, though there has been some of that, but more like I don’t know, manipulation, dishonest, like it was them praising me it was them placating me. I’m not sure I’m making sense. Anyway…
For a long time too I had difficulty in receiving compliments. I’ve learned to not respond with false modesty. And I can take praise much better than I used to be able to, but still it’s difficult. Especially when it comes to something I care so much about. It’s so important to me to do well in school, and I very clearly am, but there’s still this element I feel about my professors shining me on. I know it’s not real, or logical, and that it’s just my head fucking with me, but it’s still there.
But you know, all analysis aside, there’s a simpler way to describe how I feel about my professors giving me their approval, and it feels like the old adage of ‘Too good to be true’. I’ve got so much of my hopes invested in this shift in my life. I’ve got all the fears about failure, not being good enough, not being capable, etc., and to hear them say ‘yup, doin good/great/etc’ just leaves me feeling like ‘really? Are you sure??”
I was joking with The Goddess last night about how more than feeling good about my success, what I most feel is relief. There’s a lot of baggage attached still to my feeling good about doing well at something I love and want for myself, but I can feel relieved about succeeding better than I imagined I would or could.
We’ll get to feeling good, though. Maybe even soon :)
Thursday, November 21, 2013
“Thinking and Feeling”
Last week the therapist talked about how there’s a thought process behind feelings. This reminds me of something another therapist had tried to tell me before that I never could quite buy into. I’ve always thought (felt? Ha!) that emotions are just what they are, that they come up and that’s that. They can be dealt with or not, action taken or not, etc.
This is the second good therapist in a row to tell me that emotions aren’t just there, that they’re the result of a brain process, and that there’s thinking that happens first before the emotions come into play. Like, as in that’s how the brain itself is structured.
In my session, we got to talking specifically about what was the thinking behind all my uh shall we stay strong emotions about work. A bunch of stuff came up and out, but in the time that’s passed since then, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve been more relaxed, how work hasn’t been getting to me nearly as much, how I’ve been feeling good/better/etc.
Before I left last week, she talked about me working on that, interrupting that process. Like, that feeling of being angry about work is a well-travelled, well-worn path. It’s easy for me to do, feels good in that it’s so familiar, and also because of that, that’s why it’s so easy for me to fall into that rut. So the therapist gave me a suggestion for how to start breaking out of it. She said whenever I start to go down that emotional path, like where everything is intense and volatile, to examine the thinking behind what I’m feeling.
So I have been trying this in the week since my last appointment. It may have something to do with my feeling better. But mostly today when I see her I want to talk about the being let down by authority figures. Or I think disappointed was her word last week. It felt like something huge that we just hit on like right at the end of the appointment.
This is the second good therapist in a row to tell me that emotions aren’t just there, that they’re the result of a brain process, and that there’s thinking that happens first before the emotions come into play. Like, as in that’s how the brain itself is structured.
In my session, we got to talking specifically about what was the thinking behind all my uh shall we stay strong emotions about work. A bunch of stuff came up and out, but in the time that’s passed since then, I’ve been thinking about how I’ve been more relaxed, how work hasn’t been getting to me nearly as much, how I’ve been feeling good/better/etc.
Before I left last week, she talked about me working on that, interrupting that process. Like, that feeling of being angry about work is a well-travelled, well-worn path. It’s easy for me to do, feels good in that it’s so familiar, and also because of that, that’s why it’s so easy for me to fall into that rut. So the therapist gave me a suggestion for how to start breaking out of it. She said whenever I start to go down that emotional path, like where everything is intense and volatile, to examine the thinking behind what I’m feeling.
So I have been trying this in the week since my last appointment. It may have something to do with my feeling better. But mostly today when I see her I want to talk about the being let down by authority figures. Or I think disappointed was her word last week. It felt like something huge that we just hit on like right at the end of the appointment.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
“Cool Couple of Days”
I had my lesson Monday night. My professor had god things to say about my piece, basically summing up that I’m finished if I think I am. He had a couple suggestions for additional material at the end, but said it was up to me. I promised him I’d look at seeing if I could make his ideas work.
He also gave me some props on a good first semester, complimented my writing, and mentioned how prolific I’ve been. That one was nice to hear again. It’s something my undergrad composition professor first noticed about me when I was doing my bachelors. He asked about my seminar and we chatted about my paper, about Wagner and Debussy and that pivot from the romantic era to the modern era. I told him that my other professor had been very complimentary of my writing and he said that’s a very good thing.
So it would seem that I really am doing well. Kind of funny how I don’t quite trust that. Maybe that’s something to talk with the therapist about.
I’ve also been spending more time on the phone with The Goddess, and I think I’m changing my mind there. I’m a little concerned about something a former therapist said to me once—that I need a partner not a project. But we’re all of us under construction to some degree. What’s important is that I not date someone with the purpose of making them a project. Like that old thinking I used to have where I’d meet someone and think about how if this thing about them changed, and if they just did that, etc. etc. then they’d be perfect for me. I don’t feel that happening this time. The Goddess has her struggles, but I feel acceptance about that. Not that she’s got to get her shit together, just acceptance about where she is in life. At least that’s how it seems to me today; I hope it’s actually true.
I’ve done some shopping. I got a new jacket—my god I’ve been needing a new jacket for so long I don’t remember. I also ordered a couple pairs of shoes. After dealing with shitty shoes for a few years, I decided it was worth it to me to spend the money and buy some good pairs. So I’ve got back to the Doc Martens. Yea :) I ordered a pair for everyday casual use, and I also ordered this amazingly cool pair that’s like oxford wingtips, except they’ve got the doc sole. Righteous. Can’t wait for those to show up.
He also gave me some props on a good first semester, complimented my writing, and mentioned how prolific I’ve been. That one was nice to hear again. It’s something my undergrad composition professor first noticed about me when I was doing my bachelors. He asked about my seminar and we chatted about my paper, about Wagner and Debussy and that pivot from the romantic era to the modern era. I told him that my other professor had been very complimentary of my writing and he said that’s a very good thing.
So it would seem that I really am doing well. Kind of funny how I don’t quite trust that. Maybe that’s something to talk with the therapist about.
I’ve also been spending more time on the phone with The Goddess, and I think I’m changing my mind there. I’m a little concerned about something a former therapist said to me once—that I need a partner not a project. But we’re all of us under construction to some degree. What’s important is that I not date someone with the purpose of making them a project. Like that old thinking I used to have where I’d meet someone and think about how if this thing about them changed, and if they just did that, etc. etc. then they’d be perfect for me. I don’t feel that happening this time. The Goddess has her struggles, but I feel acceptance about that. Not that she’s got to get her shit together, just acceptance about where she is in life. At least that’s how it seems to me today; I hope it’s actually true.
I’ve done some shopping. I got a new jacket—my god I’ve been needing a new jacket for so long I don’t remember. I also ordered a couple pairs of shoes. After dealing with shitty shoes for a few years, I decided it was worth it to me to spend the money and buy some good pairs. So I’ve got back to the Doc Martens. Yea :) I ordered a pair for everyday casual use, and I also ordered this amazingly cool pair that’s like oxford wingtips, except they’ve got the doc sole. Righteous. Can’t wait for those to show up.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
“First rain”
Wet concrete, scratchy throat
Sort of. Enough to take a mental health day
First stop: pay the special rainy-day markup price for
New windshield wiper blades
It's noisy at the coffee house,
So much more so than I except for a Tuesday.
There's a group of 30/40 somethings covering the couch
One man, five women. I wonder who they are
And I keep on wondering
Two new guys behind the counter are being trained by the no-nonsense gal
I've seen her here from time to time. Not totally friendly, but very real
It's why I come here
A thin young woman sneaks in
says hello briefly to someone
then steals back out
If her blond hair hadn't had those streaks of turquoise,
I wouldn't have noticed.
Meek. Mousy.
And I've now spent more time thinking about her than I did seeing her.
My neck hurts
I may need to try the hot shower thing again.
But it can wait until Led Zeppelin's "Over the hills and far away" finishes playing on the stereo; I love that song.
Sort of. Enough to take a mental health day
First stop: pay the special rainy-day markup price for
New windshield wiper blades
It's noisy at the coffee house,
So much more so than I except for a Tuesday.
There's a group of 30/40 somethings covering the couch
One man, five women. I wonder who they are
And I keep on wondering
Two new guys behind the counter are being trained by the no-nonsense gal
I've seen her here from time to time. Not totally friendly, but very real
It's why I come here
A thin young woman sneaks in
says hello briefly to someone
then steals back out
If her blond hair hadn't had those streaks of turquoise,
I wouldn't have noticed.
Meek. Mousy.
And I've now spent more time thinking about her than I did seeing her.
My neck hurts
I may need to try the hot shower thing again.
But it can wait until Led Zeppelin's "Over the hills and far away" finishes playing on the stereo; I love that song.
Monday, November 18, 2013
“The Shift”
I’ve had a very cool idea for how to decorate my cubicle space at work. I’ve got a large panel which normally might be used for pinning up pictures or papers or something. I’ve decided to do scale prints of famous artwork and turn the whole space into a salon-style gallery. Righteous, jah? I’ve even started a new excel file to help me plan it out with all the info for the paintings as I list them out, along with the scaled sizes. Some of the canvases are HUGE. So I’ve got two columns going, one with a 1:6 and the other at half that size 1:12.
And it just occurs to me. The salon wall will be what catches people’s eye when they look at my space from a distance. It will subconsciously draw their attention away from my computer screen. Right. On. Capital idea. Now I really have to do it.
I was talking to The Goddess yesterday. I’m having some serious doubts about this woman. I’d told myself to break things off, even called her and let her know that between my school, work, and the distance between us, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do this. But I let myself be convinced otherwise. It’s nice to be liked. We’ll see. It could just be my fears. It could be just that I really want to sleep with her and don’t want to let go before that happens. Or it could be that she’s totally screwed up and completely incapable of a real relationship. Or maybe it will turn into something amazing and wonderful. Time will tell.
I’ve been in the market for new shoes. I’m tired of buying cheap shoes that don’t last. I’m thinking I’ll go back to the Doc Martens. I saw some in Ross last few times I was out there. They were all too small, but it’s really given me the bug to buy some. Their website is pretty good, and I know what size I need to wear, but I’d still rather get them in person for some reason. Online I even found a pair of wingtips. So badass. I’m totally gonna get those to wear for my concerts.
I finished my woodwind quintet over the weekend. I’m really happy with how I ended it. I suspect my professor will feel like it’s not adventurous enough, but in the end I have to be happy with what I compose. So we’ll see. I’ve got my lesson tonight. Fingers totally crossed.
Something else. It’s a Monday here at work and I’m feeling alright. I’m surprised. Like, seriously. I don’t know how much of it was the therapy last week, but somehow I found a way to chill the fuck out and not let this get to me. It’s kinda like, oh yeah—work. There’s a distance there now, breathing room. I wish I could explain it. Or maybe I’m feeling good because of other things in my life? The music is rising in prominence so the work situation doesn’t have to take on so much weight? Maybe a rise in confidence as the semester is winding down?
A quick aside: I’ve been fiddling with the global settings on my home studio again, trying to figure out a way to get the sound I want out of it. The singer/songwriter album I did last fall I’ve been wanting to work on and re-do. That’s another one where time will tell if I’ve got it going correctly. I’m always tinkering with that, trying to get my space to pump out a quality, professional sound.
I don’t know what else to say. I feel good today. It’s a wonderful change. Thank you god for the shift.
And it just occurs to me. The salon wall will be what catches people’s eye when they look at my space from a distance. It will subconsciously draw their attention away from my computer screen. Right. On. Capital idea. Now I really have to do it.
I was talking to The Goddess yesterday. I’m having some serious doubts about this woman. I’d told myself to break things off, even called her and let her know that between my school, work, and the distance between us, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do this. But I let myself be convinced otherwise. It’s nice to be liked. We’ll see. It could just be my fears. It could be just that I really want to sleep with her and don’t want to let go before that happens. Or it could be that she’s totally screwed up and completely incapable of a real relationship. Or maybe it will turn into something amazing and wonderful. Time will tell.
I’ve been in the market for new shoes. I’m tired of buying cheap shoes that don’t last. I’m thinking I’ll go back to the Doc Martens. I saw some in Ross last few times I was out there. They were all too small, but it’s really given me the bug to buy some. Their website is pretty good, and I know what size I need to wear, but I’d still rather get them in person for some reason. Online I even found a pair of wingtips. So badass. I’m totally gonna get those to wear for my concerts.
I finished my woodwind quintet over the weekend. I’m really happy with how I ended it. I suspect my professor will feel like it’s not adventurous enough, but in the end I have to be happy with what I compose. So we’ll see. I’ve got my lesson tonight. Fingers totally crossed.
Something else. It’s a Monday here at work and I’m feeling alright. I’m surprised. Like, seriously. I don’t know how much of it was the therapy last week, but somehow I found a way to chill the fuck out and not let this get to me. It’s kinda like, oh yeah—work. There’s a distance there now, breathing room. I wish I could explain it. Or maybe I’m feeling good because of other things in my life? The music is rising in prominence so the work situation doesn’t have to take on so much weight? Maybe a rise in confidence as the semester is winding down?
A quick aside: I’ve been fiddling with the global settings on my home studio again, trying to figure out a way to get the sound I want out of it. The singer/songwriter album I did last fall I’ve been wanting to work on and re-do. That’s another one where time will tell if I’ve got it going correctly. I’m always tinkering with that, trying to get my space to pump out a quality, professional sound.
I don’t know what else to say. I feel good today. It’s a wonderful change. Thank you god for the shift.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
“The Women: A Primer”
I was reading back through some previous entries and realized I’d made an error—I’d used some proper names. Even though I don’t advertise this blog, it is public and you never know what might happen, so I’ve decided to go back through and eliminate those names. But how to know who it is in my life or from my past that I’m talking about? Feels very misogynist to come up with nicknames or labels or whatever, but I don’t see a better solution. Family is fine, I can just describe the relationship and have been. But for women? Let’s see if we can go reverse chronological here…
So, okay, there’s a rundown of prominent figures from the last number of years who might come up. Any others we’re forgetting? Um, can you say YES. How about the ex-wives?
- The Goddess: the woman I’m currently dating (but for how much longer?? not long, I'm guessing). Nickname taken from her name which when I looked it up said that it’s the name of an ancient fertility/mother goddess (I think?)
- The Stalker: I don’t know if she’ll come up. We’d been communicating, talked about getting together, then abruptly I stopped hearing from her. Really don’t know why. We did have a spat where out of the blue she decided I was a horrible MAN and dumped a lot of shit on me. The story is a long one.
- The Actress: my most recent ex-girlfriend.
- The Engineer: this is more a joke to myself about my girlfriend from before, who had been an engineer but went on to make a massive career change and became a minister.
- The Phd: who wasn’t actually a PhD. That was the one I was so hopeful about, where everything looked so good on paper. Music interests in common, bodies REALLY liked each other. Still disappointed that didn’t work out.
- The Babygirl: wow. Yeah, I hope I don’t need to mention her again. The really young one. The way way way too young one.
So, okay, there’s a rundown of prominent figures from the last number of years who might come up. Any others we’re forgetting? Um, can you say YES. How about the ex-wives?
- ThePoorGal: Yeah, I think that will suffice for my second wife. I put her through hell.
- The CrazyCheatingBabyFactory: wife #1, from many years ago. She doesn’t come up very often.
- The Sistah: who lives over in San Francisco and is majorly into the Jesus stuff.
- The Priestess: who lives here in Sac and is the dark gothic pagan priestess.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
“The Goddess: Second Date”
Had a second date with The Goddess this week. And now I’m not feeling nearly as certain/interested/etc. She lives down in the bay area, I drove down there to see her. Things were going mostly well, then the bill came and sort of nothing happened. So after a few minutes I asked how she felt about splitting it. She seemed ok about it, but when we got outside, it turns out that she hadn’t been.
A little interjection here: I paid for lunch when we went out last time, and I had driven down to see her. I was sort of expecting she would pay for dinner. When it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I thought halving things was a good solution.
Anyway, a bunch of stuff starts coming out of her about how she wants to be treated like a queen, wined and dined and all that. Okay, fine. Not what I had been expecting and not sure if it’s what I’m looking for. But whatever, her work situation is a little unstable, but this is giving me shadows of The Actress. I have no interest in being a sugar daddy. Hrm. My friend The Sistah talks a lot about being treated like a queen. Maybe she has some pointers for me on how to treat a lady right, but not let yourself be taken advantage of.
All this being treated like a queen, wanting to be wined and dined is all good; that’s what you date someone for, to find out what they’re like and what they want out of dating. I’m not sure I’m cool with it, but the point I keep distracting myself from here is that The Goddess totally started crying, burst into full out tears, right there on the sidewalk as we were walking. Very emotional for her. All sorts of stuff about not wanting to be one of the guys or just somebody’s fuck buddy anymore. I folded her up in my arms, dried her tears, and yes there was a voice inside me thinking oh crap another crier, here we go again. Just like The Stalker and we all know what she was like. Unstable, to put it mildly.
It’s not that I’m not compassionate, we’ve all seen pain in our lives. But do I really want to go out with someone who has a severe emotional reaction to paying for half of dinner when the guy you’re having dinner with already drove 100 miles to see you? Just asking questions, here. No, not just asking questions. Being annoyed and pissed off. And a little disappointed.
We kept on talking, kept on walking. Other stuff came out. Her living situation is pretty unstable too. Where she’s at now she hasn’t been for long at all. She’s been on the broke side of things, doing a lot of couch surfing for months. Okay, so starting to see a pattern instability here.
Nice gal, don’t get me wrong. She is sweet, very hippie dippy, feels very comfortable in my arms. We fooled around some, too, and that was (mostly) excellent, except for the fact that her living situation… she can’t have people over or won’t unless we’ve been going out a while or whatever. So we ended up just fooling around in the car. We both joked about it, but still there’s an edge there for me. I’m just like ‘really? I have to do this again??’ Oh great, another gal who doesn’t have her own place. Who wants to mooch off me.
I won’t lie, I’m seriously interested in sleeping with this woman. The physical vibes are there, feels like it would be a lot of fun. But I’m pretty sure all this extra stuff that goes along with it is not worth it. We got some basic passes—physical attraction, emotional connection, fun silly, all good stuff. But there are some pretty serious basic fails, too. No steady job, doesn’t have her own place. Not terribly emotionally stable. Oh but she also mentioned that she’d been out on a date with another guy, that not nothing physical had happened with him, but that that was there and she didn’t feel right about not letting me know. As in, hey, I’m still seeing other people, just so you know. I told her that I’d need to think about that, and how I only really date one person at a time. I talked too about how busy I am with work and school and if the person I’m seeing really isn’t it, then hey your loss but I don’t have time to waste. I didn’t say it exactly like that, but that was the gist of it.
Yeah, so I think I’m not feeling this one. Which is too bad.
A little interjection here: I paid for lunch when we went out last time, and I had driven down to see her. I was sort of expecting she would pay for dinner. When it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I thought halving things was a good solution.
Anyway, a bunch of stuff starts coming out of her about how she wants to be treated like a queen, wined and dined and all that. Okay, fine. Not what I had been expecting and not sure if it’s what I’m looking for. But whatever, her work situation is a little unstable, but this is giving me shadows of The Actress. I have no interest in being a sugar daddy. Hrm. My friend The Sistah talks a lot about being treated like a queen. Maybe she has some pointers for me on how to treat a lady right, but not let yourself be taken advantage of.
All this being treated like a queen, wanting to be wined and dined is all good; that’s what you date someone for, to find out what they’re like and what they want out of dating. I’m not sure I’m cool with it, but the point I keep distracting myself from here is that The Goddess totally started crying, burst into full out tears, right there on the sidewalk as we were walking. Very emotional for her. All sorts of stuff about not wanting to be one of the guys or just somebody’s fuck buddy anymore. I folded her up in my arms, dried her tears, and yes there was a voice inside me thinking oh crap another crier, here we go again. Just like The Stalker and we all know what she was like. Unstable, to put it mildly.
It’s not that I’m not compassionate, we’ve all seen pain in our lives. But do I really want to go out with someone who has a severe emotional reaction to paying for half of dinner when the guy you’re having dinner with already drove 100 miles to see you? Just asking questions, here. No, not just asking questions. Being annoyed and pissed off. And a little disappointed.
We kept on talking, kept on walking. Other stuff came out. Her living situation is pretty unstable too. Where she’s at now she hasn’t been for long at all. She’s been on the broke side of things, doing a lot of couch surfing for months. Okay, so starting to see a pattern instability here.
Nice gal, don’t get me wrong. She is sweet, very hippie dippy, feels very comfortable in my arms. We fooled around some, too, and that was (mostly) excellent, except for the fact that her living situation… she can’t have people over or won’t unless we’ve been going out a while or whatever. So we ended up just fooling around in the car. We both joked about it, but still there’s an edge there for me. I’m just like ‘really? I have to do this again??’ Oh great, another gal who doesn’t have her own place. Who wants to mooch off me.
I won’t lie, I’m seriously interested in sleeping with this woman. The physical vibes are there, feels like it would be a lot of fun. But I’m pretty sure all this extra stuff that goes along with it is not worth it. We got some basic passes—physical attraction, emotional connection, fun silly, all good stuff. But there are some pretty serious basic fails, too. No steady job, doesn’t have her own place. Not terribly emotionally stable. Oh but she also mentioned that she’d been out on a date with another guy, that not nothing physical had happened with him, but that that was there and she didn’t feel right about not letting me know. As in, hey, I’m still seeing other people, just so you know. I told her that I’d need to think about that, and how I only really date one person at a time. I talked too about how busy I am with work and school and if the person I’m seeing really isn’t it, then hey your loss but I don’t have time to waste. I didn’t say it exactly like that, but that was the gist of it.
Yeah, so I think I’m not feeling this one. Which is too bad.
Friday, November 15, 2013
“Therapy Notes: Authority Figures & Abandonment”
Had the therapy session for the week. Talked a lot about my struggles with work. She helped me figure out some patterns, see some connections. We’re really sketching out a good image of me, where I’ve been, what I’ve been through. It’s hard for me to fully grip my shitty childhood. I keep wanting to fall back into things like but I wasn’t beat by my parents or molested or anything like that (that I can recall). What I was, was let down. A lot. No one showed me healthy ways of dealing with emotions, or with life. When I was hurting, I wasn’t helped. I was more or less left dangling out there to try and deal with the world by the skin of my teeth, no knowledge, no nothing. Abandonment. Damn, I hate looking at that, using that word. Gonna have to talk with her more about it.
One thing she hit on just at the end of my appointment that we should talk more about too. She said that I’ve had a lot of disappointment with authority figures. I sorta jumped the gun on that a bit, going to me having a problem with authority figures—which to a certain extent I have. But who are the ones I’ve had a problem with? The ones who have let me down. And all that has tendrils going back to my folks.
If my boss says she’s gonna support me in something, then doesn’t. Or is just a straight up bad manager, that’s gonna hurt make me angry, etc. If my professor comes down on me even though it’s just cause he had a bad day or even if he has a legitimate point, that’s all gonna hurt more. Because I’m feeling it with the weight of all the times it’s happened before in the past, going all the way back to my folks.
So I think that’s a note to myself for next week to talk some more about those two things: authority figures & abandonment.
One thing she hit on just at the end of my appointment that we should talk more about too. She said that I’ve had a lot of disappointment with authority figures. I sorta jumped the gun on that a bit, going to me having a problem with authority figures—which to a certain extent I have. But who are the ones I’ve had a problem with? The ones who have let me down. And all that has tendrils going back to my folks.
If my boss says she’s gonna support me in something, then doesn’t. Or is just a straight up bad manager, that’s gonna hurt make me angry, etc. If my professor comes down on me even though it’s just cause he had a bad day or even if he has a legitimate point, that’s all gonna hurt more. Because I’m feeling it with the weight of all the times it’s happened before in the past, going all the way back to my folks.
So I think that’s a note to myself for next week to talk some more about those two things: authority figures & abandonment.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
“Portrait of an Office”
On my way inside, I stop in the kitchen/break room to put my salad for lunch in the fridge. I overhear two building personnel talking about ongoing unresolved issues they’re still dealing with from the move to this new space. At one point I hear them say “okay, well let’s plan on going to that plan when the other plan doesn’t pan out…” and I once again think to myself, God Dammit.
In the bathroom later, I walk in and some guys are in there talking. At the urinal, at the sink, and they’re having some kind of fraternity induced khaki pants convention bro love fest. Or maybe it’s just their morning chatter. Whatever. You don’t fucking talk in the men’s room. Period. If you want conversation while you pee, go use the women’s. Seriously.
It’s 8:48am.
I’ve been instructed to smile. Why? No reason given, except that she’ll start calling me ‘grumpy’ if I don’t. I told her I have a license to not smile before 9 am. But maybe I don’t, at least not without being ostracized. So here I sit in my cubicle, forced to keep my ever-increasing fury to myself, facing lovely windows to the outside, but with my back to an aisle where anyone can walk down and see everything I’m doing.
God. Dammit.
Curse this need I have to give people the benefit of the doubt, to make allowances for those different from myself. Plenty of people have no problem with this modern office culture, and even if they do have a problem with it, they know all too well that there isn’t anything they can do to change it and that attempting to change it gets one labelled a trouble maker, a rabble rouser, a “problem”. Oh yes that guy, I know the one you mean he’s nice enough but he’s always complaining about being treated like cattle instead of a human so we all just pretty much leave him alone and try not to upset him but you know he’s sensitive!
Give those gossiping bitches some gum to chew, a pair of pom-poms, and send them back to the high school their psyches are still trapped in.
The ergonomic furniture guy comes around to show me how to use my new chair. He does so by way of changing all the settings that I had already worked so hard to get right. Mother. Fucker. But he wants to make sure I know how to use all the different levers. “We want to fit the chair to you and not the other way around.” Yeah, because a flimsy piece of plastic that happens to be adjustable in sixteen useless ways definitely makes up for the fact that I work with my dick hanging out for all to see.
It’s Thursday. I don’t have a case of the Mondays, I have a case of the everydays.
ErgoMan leaves, but not before reminding me to sit all the way back in my chair. I tell him I sit at the front of my chair. He says, well, we’ll see what we can do to fix that. Because apparently I’m not even allowed to sit in my chair what way’s comfortable for me without being harassed for it. Maybe I should inflate a smiling, pose-able, blowup doll who never needs to shit and just stick him in place at my desk. I bet they promote him within a week.
The stillness outside draws my eyes. I look out the windows and see trees in fall colors—red, gold, yellow, and ever some green. An empty field. Train tracks. The freeway with cars and trucks and busses moving by. Buildings in the distance. The sky is blue, blankets of clouds with wispy tendrils. And in here the air conditioning blows, keeping the building space at a pre-determined optimal temperature that’s just a little too cold.
What have we done to ourselves?
In the bathroom later, I walk in and some guys are in there talking. At the urinal, at the sink, and they’re having some kind of fraternity induced khaki pants convention bro love fest. Or maybe it’s just their morning chatter. Whatever. You don’t fucking talk in the men’s room. Period. If you want conversation while you pee, go use the women’s. Seriously.
It’s 8:48am.
I’ve been instructed to smile. Why? No reason given, except that she’ll start calling me ‘grumpy’ if I don’t. I told her I have a license to not smile before 9 am. But maybe I don’t, at least not without being ostracized. So here I sit in my cubicle, forced to keep my ever-increasing fury to myself, facing lovely windows to the outside, but with my back to an aisle where anyone can walk down and see everything I’m doing.
God. Dammit.
Curse this need I have to give people the benefit of the doubt, to make allowances for those different from myself. Plenty of people have no problem with this modern office culture, and even if they do have a problem with it, they know all too well that there isn’t anything they can do to change it and that attempting to change it gets one labelled a trouble maker, a rabble rouser, a “problem”. Oh yes that guy, I know the one you mean he’s nice enough but he’s always complaining about being treated like cattle instead of a human so we all just pretty much leave him alone and try not to upset him but you know he’s sensitive!
Give those gossiping bitches some gum to chew, a pair of pom-poms, and send them back to the high school their psyches are still trapped in.
The ergonomic furniture guy comes around to show me how to use my new chair. He does so by way of changing all the settings that I had already worked so hard to get right. Mother. Fucker. But he wants to make sure I know how to use all the different levers. “We want to fit the chair to you and not the other way around.” Yeah, because a flimsy piece of plastic that happens to be adjustable in sixteen useless ways definitely makes up for the fact that I work with my dick hanging out for all to see.
It’s Thursday. I don’t have a case of the Mondays, I have a case of the everydays.
ErgoMan leaves, but not before reminding me to sit all the way back in my chair. I tell him I sit at the front of my chair. He says, well, we’ll see what we can do to fix that. Because apparently I’m not even allowed to sit in my chair what way’s comfortable for me without being harassed for it. Maybe I should inflate a smiling, pose-able, blowup doll who never needs to shit and just stick him in place at my desk. I bet they promote him within a week.
The stillness outside draws my eyes. I look out the windows and see trees in fall colors—red, gold, yellow, and ever some green. An empty field. Train tracks. The freeway with cars and trucks and busses moving by. Buildings in the distance. The sky is blue, blankets of clouds with wispy tendrils. And in here the air conditioning blows, keeping the building space at a pre-determined optimal temperature that’s just a little too cold.
What have we done to ourselves?
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
“Wednesday On The Job”
It’s very tempting to wax philosophical about how dehumanizing my work situation is and how modern day corporatism is just the 21st century version of slavery. But I’m going to try and veer away from that, towards something more like … when am I going to get to be me? That’s much of my thought process as I do the day job, how this is not me and how trying to be this other person is like killing me. It’s like a mask that simply will not fit anymore. Holding it in place takes so much effort. I really hope a third way shows itself soon. I ask for help, pray to God that I will See it when it shows up and have the strength to latch on it, or do whatever it is that’s required of me.
There’s a lot of time spent during the day too of looking forward to the good things that are coming. Tonight I have class; tomorrow I have my therapy appointment and then after work I’m headed on down to Berkeley to see The Goddess for a second date. She & I talked on the phone last night. I feel this sort of silly giddiness when I talk to her. Not sure what that is. Feels very strange. I’d be tempted to say I like this woman—a lot—but that’s… but I’m not really sure what that looks like.
For a long time, I had a seriously broken picker. Women who came into my life that I chose to go out with, it turned all bad so many times. And even the last woman I was with, I was not happy with her. I’m hesitant about starting something new, worried about picking someone unconsciously that will lead us both down a path of pain, and at the same time excited by this new person in my life and more hopeful or maybe it’s more interested than I have been in a woman in a while. And being genuinely attracted to her physically is huge. That’s one that so often seems to be missing for me.
At class tonight we turn in our rough draft for our papers. I’ve got the writing done on mine but the citations aren’t formatted, or the bibliography. Ah well. It’s just a rough draft. I’ll get it back with plenty of notes. Am I happy with it? It’s definitely good enough for a rough draft, but I feel like I haven’t really contributed anything new. Feels like a lot of reporting facts and very thin on the analysis. I’m anxious to see what the professor thinks of it.
There’s a lot of time spent during the day too of looking forward to the good things that are coming. Tonight I have class; tomorrow I have my therapy appointment and then after work I’m headed on down to Berkeley to see The Goddess for a second date. She & I talked on the phone last night. I feel this sort of silly giddiness when I talk to her. Not sure what that is. Feels very strange. I’d be tempted to say I like this woman—a lot—but that’s… but I’m not really sure what that looks like.
For a long time, I had a seriously broken picker. Women who came into my life that I chose to go out with, it turned all bad so many times. And even the last woman I was with, I was not happy with her. I’m hesitant about starting something new, worried about picking someone unconsciously that will lead us both down a path of pain, and at the same time excited by this new person in my life and more hopeful or maybe it’s more interested than I have been in a woman in a while. And being genuinely attracted to her physically is huge. That’s one that so often seems to be missing for me.
At class tonight we turn in our rough draft for our papers. I’ve got the writing done on mine but the citations aren’t formatted, or the bibliography. Ah well. It’s just a rough draft. I’ll get it back with plenty of notes. Am I happy with it? It’s definitely good enough for a rough draft, but I feel like I haven’t really contributed anything new. Feels like a lot of reporting facts and very thin on the analysis. I’m anxious to see what the professor thinks of it.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
“So Much To Write About”
Well here we are, Tuesday morning (after a Monday holiday) at work and I am of course so pissed off. I’m praying a lot, asking for help, asking for willingness to see another way. No answers yet. The network here isn’t working so I can’t actually do any actual work. Just as well. I don’t want to do any actual work anyway. So much negativity. God help me find a way to deal with it or change or something. God give me what I need, whatever it is.
I had a date on Sunday. She’s cute. Short, sweet, very hippie dippie. She lives down in Oakland, so we met in Fairfield, halfway between there and Sac. We had a good Thai lunch, all very get to know you, but I like her. At one point I found myself just grinning because I do. We made out a little before leaving. Felt intense. I hope it wasn’t the bad kind of intensity. Feelings can be tough to describe. I really liked holding her there in my arms. There’s still a lot of getting-to-know-you to be done, and I’m not sure how much we have in common, but I do want to see her again.
My piece “Either/Or” was performed last Friday on the Student Composer’s concert. The players did a really good job, I’m so pleased. It was great to hear my music being played again, and even better to see it be well-received. The conductor gave me a little approving nod, and the audience liked it a lot. I was told that the judges reacted well to it also. I would really like to win the competition. There is a monetary prize, which would be nice, but I’m more interested in being able to list it on my resume.
I’ve got a rough draft for my big paper for my seminar due Wednesday. Writing this has been a long haul, and I feel like I should have more written for all the work I’ve done on it. I guess the length isn’t as important as whether it’s good. I don’t know if it’s good enough to get published, but I think it’s a pretty good paper for just the class. I wrote it in its separate sections and this weekend put the whole thing together for the first time. Over 20 sources, pushing 60 citations. But the actual length of it seems shorter to me than I would expect for all that. Oh well, that’s what the rough draft is for. I’ll get it back with notes from the professor, and have a private meeting with her on ways to improve it. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself, thinking I should be writing a paper for publication. Anyway, reading through it all the way through for the first time, I’m actually pretty pleased. It’s got some good places in it, and I think it’s a good read. I’m really curious to see my professor’s thoughts.
Back to the work thing. I try to remind myself of why I do this—so I don’t have to stress over money. That’s a big deal. But being here is painful. But there’s something else I worry about, too. I worry that not being at work, I would still hurt and be in pain and have fits of depression and sadness and anger. I don’t know. Maybe it’s something I can talk more to my therapist about. Geez, am I ever glad to have those appointments. It’s only one hour a week, but it feels like an eternity between those sessions. I really don’t know what I’d do without them.
I had a date on Sunday. She’s cute. Short, sweet, very hippie dippie. She lives down in Oakland, so we met in Fairfield, halfway between there and Sac. We had a good Thai lunch, all very get to know you, but I like her. At one point I found myself just grinning because I do. We made out a little before leaving. Felt intense. I hope it wasn’t the bad kind of intensity. Feelings can be tough to describe. I really liked holding her there in my arms. There’s still a lot of getting-to-know-you to be done, and I’m not sure how much we have in common, but I do want to see her again.
My piece “Either/Or” was performed last Friday on the Student Composer’s concert. The players did a really good job, I’m so pleased. It was great to hear my music being played again, and even better to see it be well-received. The conductor gave me a little approving nod, and the audience liked it a lot. I was told that the judges reacted well to it also. I would really like to win the competition. There is a monetary prize, which would be nice, but I’m more interested in being able to list it on my resume.
I’ve got a rough draft for my big paper for my seminar due Wednesday. Writing this has been a long haul, and I feel like I should have more written for all the work I’ve done on it. I guess the length isn’t as important as whether it’s good. I don’t know if it’s good enough to get published, but I think it’s a pretty good paper for just the class. I wrote it in its separate sections and this weekend put the whole thing together for the first time. Over 20 sources, pushing 60 citations. But the actual length of it seems shorter to me than I would expect for all that. Oh well, that’s what the rough draft is for. I’ll get it back with notes from the professor, and have a private meeting with her on ways to improve it. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself, thinking I should be writing a paper for publication. Anyway, reading through it all the way through for the first time, I’m actually pretty pleased. It’s got some good places in it, and I think it’s a good read. I’m really curious to see my professor’s thoughts.
Back to the work thing. I try to remind myself of why I do this—so I don’t have to stress over money. That’s a big deal. But being here is painful. But there’s something else I worry about, too. I worry that not being at work, I would still hurt and be in pain and have fits of depression and sadness and anger. I don’t know. Maybe it’s something I can talk more to my therapist about. Geez, am I ever glad to have those appointments. It’s only one hour a week, but it feels like an eternity between those sessions. I really don’t know what I’d do without them.
Friday, November 8, 2013
“‘Either/Or’ Performance”
The Festival of New American Music is going on at school right now—big deal, lots of concerts, master classes, etc. The student composer’s concert is this afternoon and I’m very excited—one of my pieces is being performed. It’s Either/Or, the piece I wrote for when I applied to grad school. For Clarinet, Bassoon, and Violin.
I met with the players last night, listened to them go through the piece. It sounds good. The fact it’s being performed at all is amazing to me. I hadn’t ever really expected or intended that, it was just the piece I wrote so that I would have something current to go in my portfolio when I applied to grad school. But sitting down with the players at a rehearsal last night was awesome. (The bassoon player is really hot, which was almost a problem for me; well, not a problem, so much as a distraction. And I’m definitely still thinking about it).
I’m really proud of myself for this (with even more gratitude to the players). And I have a lot of gratitude for the fact of it happening. The universe/fate/reality is allowing this, responding to my attempts/requests.
Last night I hung out with my old friend the Priestess. It had been way too long since we’d seen each other. She’s been really supportive of the music making career change. I was talking to her about how good it feels to be back in school, how that’s going well, and how the going well of it is making work more difficult. She talked about how I’m swimming upstream right now and that in time I’ll be into the new career/life path full bore and once that happens I’ll be doing the backstroke.
Imagine that—not having to fight anymore. Having all my emotional and psychic energy available to me, to use when I want to and not because I have to maintain some false persona. Well and the work thing isn’t even so much a false persona as it is an incorrect life. Ack, well, as I have written before and will undoubtedly write again, I don’t belong in this work under the fluorescents cubicle lifestyle.
The Priestess talks about it as me pretending to be normal when I so am not. And she’s totally right. Pushing back against this idea of living the ‘office’ work life, that that’s why I have to do or the only thing I’m good for or worthy of, has been a challenge. But it’s one I’m meeting. Succeeding. Having this piece performed today is just one of many manifestations of it.
I plan to get cards for each of the players as thank you’s. That’s just good business, but I also really mean it, and I told them last night.
That bassoon player is really hot. She’s probably like fifteen years younger than me. Ouch. Oh well, how about that :) I can still appreciate how good she looks without taking any action. Feelings are just that—feelings. That’s good old program right there—feelings, no matter how strong, won’t kill you, and they don’t mean you have to take action.
I met with the players last night, listened to them go through the piece. It sounds good. The fact it’s being performed at all is amazing to me. I hadn’t ever really expected or intended that, it was just the piece I wrote so that I would have something current to go in my portfolio when I applied to grad school. But sitting down with the players at a rehearsal last night was awesome. (The bassoon player is really hot, which was almost a problem for me; well, not a problem, so much as a distraction. And I’m definitely still thinking about it).
I’m really proud of myself for this (with even more gratitude to the players). And I have a lot of gratitude for the fact of it happening. The universe/fate/reality is allowing this, responding to my attempts/requests.
Last night I hung out with my old friend the Priestess. It had been way too long since we’d seen each other. She’s been really supportive of the music making career change. I was talking to her about how good it feels to be back in school, how that’s going well, and how the going well of it is making work more difficult. She talked about how I’m swimming upstream right now and that in time I’ll be into the new career/life path full bore and once that happens I’ll be doing the backstroke.
Imagine that—not having to fight anymore. Having all my emotional and psychic energy available to me, to use when I want to and not because I have to maintain some false persona. Well and the work thing isn’t even so much a false persona as it is an incorrect life. Ack, well, as I have written before and will undoubtedly write again, I don’t belong in this work under the fluorescents cubicle lifestyle.
The Priestess talks about it as me pretending to be normal when I so am not. And she’s totally right. Pushing back against this idea of living the ‘office’ work life, that that’s why I have to do or the only thing I’m good for or worthy of, has been a challenge. But it’s one I’m meeting. Succeeding. Having this piece performed today is just one of many manifestations of it.
I plan to get cards for each of the players as thank you’s. That’s just good business, but I also really mean it, and I told them last night.
That bassoon player is really hot. She’s probably like fifteen years younger than me. Ouch. Oh well, how about that :) I can still appreciate how good she looks without taking any action. Feelings are just that—feelings. That’s good old program right there—feelings, no matter how strong, won’t kill you, and they don’t mean you have to take action.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
“Blood. Guidance.”
Even before I got in to the work space, I was of course already struggling with my job. Just last night I took a moment to bare my soul to God. I told him I was hurting and asked for help. I Asked specifically for another way on this path. I’m going to school for music, doing well, working towards a massive career shift, and I asked for a way to this goal that isn’t so painful as this one I’m on now doing the work thing. He has let me know multiple times that he’s hear my prayer.
A few months ago, a new spell began itself. It started with river rock from one my nightstands that had gotten candle wax on it. I boiled the wax away, cleansing the rocks and they told me they were the beginning of a new spell. I called my friend The Priestess and asked what she thought it might be for. The answer she received was that it was for guidance and that I should put it by my shoes.
I bundled the rocks up for temporary and set them on the altar to charge where all my spells sit to charge. It’s been pretty quiet. The only thing I’ve gotten from it (until just recently) was a request for a white doily to officially bundle the rocks in. I haven’t encountered one, however. And I’m wondering if the spell is getting cranky, impatient.
Just yesterday, I cut open the tip of my pinky finger when I was getting out of my car. It was on the very tip of my finger, right where I cut to give blood for a spell. Very unusual, and I Knew right away that I had to give the blood to the spell that’s been working. I went upstairs to my altar, sat before it, and realized I needed to light the candles for ceremony. When reaching down to get the matches, I discovered more rocks. They wanted to be added to the spell. So I do so. Once the candles were lit, I tried to drop blood onto the rocks, but needed to make more cuts so as to bleed more for it.
I squeezed out three drops that fell, then wiped my finger on the rocks for more. I’m not sure if I need to go get a doily or how long I should wait to encounter one. Maybe I’ll ask my friend The Priestess about it.
I don’t know if the spell and my prayers for deliverance from the pain of pretending to be who I’m not are connected. They may be, they may separate. I am tired of hurting, that much I know.
A few months ago, a new spell began itself. It started with river rock from one my nightstands that had gotten candle wax on it. I boiled the wax away, cleansing the rocks and they told me they were the beginning of a new spell. I called my friend The Priestess and asked what she thought it might be for. The answer she received was that it was for guidance and that I should put it by my shoes.
I bundled the rocks up for temporary and set them on the altar to charge where all my spells sit to charge. It’s been pretty quiet. The only thing I’ve gotten from it (until just recently) was a request for a white doily to officially bundle the rocks in. I haven’t encountered one, however. And I’m wondering if the spell is getting cranky, impatient.
Just yesterday, I cut open the tip of my pinky finger when I was getting out of my car. It was on the very tip of my finger, right where I cut to give blood for a spell. Very unusual, and I Knew right away that I had to give the blood to the spell that’s been working. I went upstairs to my altar, sat before it, and realized I needed to light the candles for ceremony. When reaching down to get the matches, I discovered more rocks. They wanted to be added to the spell. So I do so. Once the candles were lit, I tried to drop blood onto the rocks, but needed to make more cuts so as to bleed more for it.
I squeezed out three drops that fell, then wiped my finger on the rocks for more. I’m not sure if I need to go get a doily or how long I should wait to encounter one. Maybe I’ll ask my friend The Priestess about it.
I don’t know if the spell and my prayers for deliverance from the pain of pretending to be who I’m not are connected. They may be, they may separate. I am tired of hurting, that much I know.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
“Move at Work”
My office has moved to a new building. The set up is very different than what I had before. A whole bunch of different departments have been put together. The floorplan is very open, with everyone’s workspace open and viewable to everyone else. As a private person, this makes me really, really, really uncomfortable.
I sat down at my workstation this morning unhappy. Then after walking away and coming back, I realized I could see my computer screens from really far away and so could anyone else. Anyone else who looked over would be able to see what I was doing. God I so don’t belong here.
I want to go on a big long diatribe about this corporate think and not giving people personal space and forcing everyone, preventing them from doing anything personal. It’s evil, manipulative, bullying, distrustful, ugh. I’m really unhappy about it, so much so that I really don’t think there’s much more I can say. Pissed off. Fuck you assholes pissed off. This is no place for a private person to work.
I sat down at my workstation this morning unhappy. Then after walking away and coming back, I realized I could see my computer screens from really far away and so could anyone else. Anyone else who looked over would be able to see what I was doing. God I so don’t belong here.
I want to go on a big long diatribe about this corporate think and not giving people personal space and forcing everyone, preventing them from doing anything personal. It’s evil, manipulative, bullying, distrustful, ugh. I’m really unhappy about it, so much so that I really don’t think there’s much more I can say. Pissed off. Fuck you assholes pissed off. This is no place for a private person to work.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
“A ‘well, duh!’ Moment With My Sister”
I was talking with my sister the other day. Doing well in school has been such an amazing thing for me and I was telling her about it. Her response was something like ‘well yeah, duh!’ as in of course I was doing well. I asked her if she felt that way about me and academia, how come she never said so before. She was like she thought she had. Anyway, all that really stung to hear and still does. So I’m gonna unpack that a little, as the saying goes.
For starters, I don’t remember her ever telling me that. And that’s something I’m unhappy about when it comes to my family—there’s old stuff that hangs on about them not supporting me. About how I wish I’d had family who told me they believed in me. Like, I’ve worked in office environments most of my life. That’s what my folks did, and what my sister does too. I wish there had been a point where someone in my family had said, “you don’t have to do this; you weren’t made to work in an office; you don’t have to be miserable, pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Of course, my family didn’t know anything about artistic careers and how to make an income doing that. And I have the impression of a lot of fear from my mother about not earning enough to live on. I guess I’m wishing that my mom had been able to say something like, there’s no need to be afraid—you’ll find a way. Or that my sister in listening to me be unhappy with work had encouraged me to go back to school and pursue composition. Or that my dad had been involved lol. I can imagine him saying I could do whatever I wanted to with my life, but I think what I would rather have heard is that I could do music with my life.
I don’t know. Somehow, a lot of this feels like whining. I suppose in the end it’s up to me to figure out what it is that I want to do with my life, career-wise. And it’s up to me to pursue that, regardless of how much or little support I get from my family. I just have this thing that hangs on, a feeling that it may be officially alright for me to pursue my dreams, but in reality it’s something that I shouldn’t do. That I should play it safe instead.
It’s not even about “well, you should try and maybe you’ll succeed” I feel like I wish someone had said, “Well duh, of course you’ll succeed. No question about it.” That kind of unequivocal confidence. Or unconditional love.
If my sister really felt I would be so successful in academics, why hasn’t she said so in all these years? Why now, now that I’m finally doing it and proud of what I’m achieving. It’s almost like her saying that robs me of my achievement. “Oh, you’re succeeding? Well, duh, of course you are.” Ya know? It’s so self-evident that I would, no SHOULD, be totally successful. Like I would be some kind of a total failure if I didn’t wildly succeed.
I’m working hard to do well in school. Having my sister respond to me being proud of myself with a “well duh” made me feel like I’d been robbed of that achievement.
For starters, I don’t remember her ever telling me that. And that’s something I’m unhappy about when it comes to my family—there’s old stuff that hangs on about them not supporting me. About how I wish I’d had family who told me they believed in me. Like, I’ve worked in office environments most of my life. That’s what my folks did, and what my sister does too. I wish there had been a point where someone in my family had said, “you don’t have to do this; you weren’t made to work in an office; you don’t have to be miserable, pretending to be someone you’re not.”
Of course, my family didn’t know anything about artistic careers and how to make an income doing that. And I have the impression of a lot of fear from my mother about not earning enough to live on. I guess I’m wishing that my mom had been able to say something like, there’s no need to be afraid—you’ll find a way. Or that my sister in listening to me be unhappy with work had encouraged me to go back to school and pursue composition. Or that my dad had been involved lol. I can imagine him saying I could do whatever I wanted to with my life, but I think what I would rather have heard is that I could do music with my life.
I don’t know. Somehow, a lot of this feels like whining. I suppose in the end it’s up to me to figure out what it is that I want to do with my life, career-wise. And it’s up to me to pursue that, regardless of how much or little support I get from my family. I just have this thing that hangs on, a feeling that it may be officially alright for me to pursue my dreams, but in reality it’s something that I shouldn’t do. That I should play it safe instead.
It’s not even about “well, you should try and maybe you’ll succeed” I feel like I wish someone had said, “Well duh, of course you’ll succeed. No question about it.” That kind of unequivocal confidence. Or unconditional love.
If my sister really felt I would be so successful in academics, why hasn’t she said so in all these years? Why now, now that I’m finally doing it and proud of what I’m achieving. It’s almost like her saying that robs me of my achievement. “Oh, you’re succeeding? Well, duh, of course you are.” Ya know? It’s so self-evident that I would, no SHOULD, be totally successful. Like I would be some kind of a total failure if I didn’t wildly succeed.
I’m working hard to do well in school. Having my sister respond to me being proud of myself with a “well duh” made me feel like I’d been robbed of that achievement.
Monday, November 4, 2013
“Work Sucks; Good Weekend; New Woman?”
I wonder if the reason I’ve started this journal up is so that I have a place to bitch about work. I don’t do nothing, but I don’t do tons. My boss is a neurotic workaholic control freak. She had me covering for our admin while she was out for surgery. Lots of extra stuff to deal with, but no training and definitely no thanks. We’re moving into a new building this week, so everyone is going crazy over that. I’m not optimistic about things calming down once we’re over there. I hope that I’m able to take all this energy about hating this day job and feed it into doing well in school. I so don’t belong here.
I had a good weekend, got a lot done. My paper is progressing. I’ve got about 8 pages done, so I’m roughly halfway through. I have to have a rough draft ready for class a week from Wednesday. I think I’ll make that. I’ve got Wednesday off from work because of the move, so I’ll have all day to work on it. I don’t really know how to feel about the paper. It’s really well researched, but I still feel like it’s just a collection of facts. I’m not sure how strong the argument part of it is.
I made good progress on my woodwind quintet. I’m concerned that the last movement won’t be as long as I’d wanted it to be. It’s a good piece. Not stellar, not something I’m in love with, but it’s good and I can get behind it. Sometimes I feel like I’m just writing nonsense, but I know that’s my own personal opinion about art music taking over. The second of the three movements is still my favorite. It’s the one with the thick lush harmonies that I love writing so much.
The end of the semester is coming up soon. I’m looking forward to not having the intense stress of all the school and work. But I would rather it were work that I was getting a break from and just school that I had to do for a while. As hard as school is, it feels so much better to do that than this work shit.
Though, I will admit I can’t remember a time when I DIDN’T wish I was just doing music and not a day job.
I got in my exercise again this weekend, jogged both Saturday and Sunday. I don’t feel proud so much about that as I do satisfied. My eating habits are getting better, and I’m noticing the weight loss in my clothes. My boxers aren’t so tight, and my jeans aren’t so tight. My legs hurt when I jog, and even the day after I’m feeling some pain in the shins. But that’s after doing it two days in a row. I hope that gets easier as I lose weight.
Aha! A space where I can let out all my insta-reactions to meeting a woman! I put a profile together for a dating site and I matched me up with a woman who lives down in Berkeley. Looks like a really good match. We talked on the phone last night for like 45 min or so. She’s very… she talks really fast. I kept wishing for things to slow down.
Get to know you stuff is hard. Like, writing back and forth with her, I thought things were cool, talking to her I was a little more concerned. Wasn’t sure if there was a connection, but I don’t know how much of that was because I was just overwhelmed by the fast talking. But there were some sweet moments. It would be nice to have something going that worked. It sounds like she’s in good shape, maybe isn’t so good with money, has a strong spiritual side. Actually, she sounds kinda like a hippie chick. Which could be alright. One of the things she wrote about was needing to cuddle with her partner at night. That’s required for me. After spending all those months with my last girlfriend, The Actress, sleeping together but not touching each other—ugh. Reminded me of the nights with my ex wife, ThePoorGal.
I would be nice if this turned out to be something. It doesn’t have to be something huge, but something. Someone to talk to, share stuff with, spend time with. Have sex with, okay, yeah that would be nice too lol. But more than that, have enjoyable sex with. That one has been a while.
* * *
I had a good weekend, got a lot done. My paper is progressing. I’ve got about 8 pages done, so I’m roughly halfway through. I have to have a rough draft ready for class a week from Wednesday. I think I’ll make that. I’ve got Wednesday off from work because of the move, so I’ll have all day to work on it. I don’t really know how to feel about the paper. It’s really well researched, but I still feel like it’s just a collection of facts. I’m not sure how strong the argument part of it is.
I made good progress on my woodwind quintet. I’m concerned that the last movement won’t be as long as I’d wanted it to be. It’s a good piece. Not stellar, not something I’m in love with, but it’s good and I can get behind it. Sometimes I feel like I’m just writing nonsense, but I know that’s my own personal opinion about art music taking over. The second of the three movements is still my favorite. It’s the one with the thick lush harmonies that I love writing so much.
The end of the semester is coming up soon. I’m looking forward to not having the intense stress of all the school and work. But I would rather it were work that I was getting a break from and just school that I had to do for a while. As hard as school is, it feels so much better to do that than this work shit.
Though, I will admit I can’t remember a time when I DIDN’T wish I was just doing music and not a day job.
I got in my exercise again this weekend, jogged both Saturday and Sunday. I don’t feel proud so much about that as I do satisfied. My eating habits are getting better, and I’m noticing the weight loss in my clothes. My boxers aren’t so tight, and my jeans aren’t so tight. My legs hurt when I jog, and even the day after I’m feeling some pain in the shins. But that’s after doing it two days in a row. I hope that gets easier as I lose weight.
* * *
Aha! A space where I can let out all my insta-reactions to meeting a woman! I put a profile together for a dating site and I matched me up with a woman who lives down in Berkeley. Looks like a really good match. We talked on the phone last night for like 45 min or so. She’s very… she talks really fast. I kept wishing for things to slow down.
Get to know you stuff is hard. Like, writing back and forth with her, I thought things were cool, talking to her I was a little more concerned. Wasn’t sure if there was a connection, but I don’t know how much of that was because I was just overwhelmed by the fast talking. But there were some sweet moments. It would be nice to have something going that worked. It sounds like she’s in good shape, maybe isn’t so good with money, has a strong spiritual side. Actually, she sounds kinda like a hippie chick. Which could be alright. One of the things she wrote about was needing to cuddle with her partner at night. That’s required for me. After spending all those months with my last girlfriend, The Actress, sleeping together but not touching each other—ugh. Reminded me of the nights with my ex wife, ThePoorGal.
I would be nice if this turned out to be something. It doesn’t have to be something huge, but something. Someone to talk to, share stuff with, spend time with. Have sex with, okay, yeah that would be nice too lol. But more than that, have enjoyable sex with. That one has been a while.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
“Where Are The Women?”
How about women? Haven’t touched on that yet. Yeah, I think I’d much rather write on that than discussing with my therapist what it was like being in jail. Unfortunately, there isn’t much on the women subject to discuss. But a journal of mine where I didn’t write about women at all? Wouldn’t be my journal.
I’m not seeing anyone right now. I got together with a woman at the start of the year, but we broke up over a month ago. There had been another woman I was talking to, but she’s gone silent on me. Not sure why, and I’m not sure how much I care about it. A little disappointed, somewhat annoyed. But twice now I’ve put feelers out and haven’t gotten a response. Maybe some day I’ll hear from her about why.
Which leaves me with basically zero prospects. Okay, that’s fine, I’ve been here before. With school and work, I’m pretty busy. I’ve got zero time for bullshit. Hm. Zero time, zero prospects. That’s a lot of zero. My therapist would probably ask me if I’m feeling less-than because of it. Truthfully? Not really. I’d rather this than be trying to deal with a relationship that wasn’t working.
But it sure would be nice to be in a relationship that worked.
Ah well. I’m changing (I’m always changing). Growing, shifting more towards being who I really am, who I really want to be. And it really is true that I don’t have the time or inclination for any BS. Yours truly, unfiltered, that’s what’s being offered. Actually, I’m a little embarrassed. What’s that about?
Ah. It’s about I do feel less-than because I don’t have a partner. And I feel lonely. As I said to someone recently, I’m going through this amazing, transformative experience in my life and it’s really amazing and it really sucks to not have someone to share it with. Or to share life with, in general.
The therapist and I talked about me having trust issues with women. I won’t argue, because I can see all the flashing neon signs from my past that spell out why. There’s still so much work to do on me. In the meantime, well, I guess it’s just a lot of ‘is what it is’. I’m not seeing someone; if the opportunity comes up I’ll deal with that then.
I’m not seeing anyone right now. I got together with a woman at the start of the year, but we broke up over a month ago. There had been another woman I was talking to, but she’s gone silent on me. Not sure why, and I’m not sure how much I care about it. A little disappointed, somewhat annoyed. But twice now I’ve put feelers out and haven’t gotten a response. Maybe some day I’ll hear from her about why.
Which leaves me with basically zero prospects. Okay, that’s fine, I’ve been here before. With school and work, I’m pretty busy. I’ve got zero time for bullshit. Hm. Zero time, zero prospects. That’s a lot of zero. My therapist would probably ask me if I’m feeling less-than because of it. Truthfully? Not really. I’d rather this than be trying to deal with a relationship that wasn’t working.
But it sure would be nice to be in a relationship that worked.
Ah well. I’m changing (I’m always changing). Growing, shifting more towards being who I really am, who I really want to be. And it really is true that I don’t have the time or inclination for any BS. Yours truly, unfiltered, that’s what’s being offered. Actually, I’m a little embarrassed. What’s that about?
Ah. It’s about I do feel less-than because I don’t have a partner. And I feel lonely. As I said to someone recently, I’m going through this amazing, transformative experience in my life and it’s really amazing and it really sucks to not have someone to share it with. Or to share life with, in general.
The therapist and I talked about me having trust issues with women. I won’t argue, because I can see all the flashing neon signs from my past that spell out why. There’s still so much work to do on me. In the meantime, well, I guess it’s just a lot of ‘is what it is’. I’m not seeing someone; if the opportunity comes up I’ll deal with that then.
Friday, November 1, 2013
“Work = The Twilight Zone”
I have got to get better sleep. Or more of it somehow.
Seminar this week was amazing for me. Every week we have a scholarly article to read and a response paper to write on it. The one we got back this time was one I’d been dreading getting back, at least a little. In it, I argued about the importance of emotion in music and how frustrating it is that scholars continue to leave out this vital aspect of it. I thought my writing was a little heavy-handed, or that the opinion I was expressing wasn’t one that was allowed or something. There was something in the writing that I felt as I was writing it like well, this will never fly but I feel so strongly about it, I’ve got to write it. So we got the papers back and I got a 99/100 – my highest mark yet. I was stunned.
I’m still a little stunned. I’m not sure at what point I’ll get over this feeling. I’m doing well in grad school—really well. I know I won’t get high marks on every paper, and no doubt there will be serious struggles, but with all the hard work I’m putting in it feels so good to be rewarded for it.
As a brief aside, it really makes work annoying. Lame. How suck that I’ve got to deal with this bullshit everyday. And it’s not bullshit, of course. I’m doing this for a reason. I want to not have to stress over money while I’m in grad school. It’s a trade-off I’ve chosen to make, and I really think it’s the right one. I won’t have to do this forever. But after a rush like last night, to walk in here today… I don’t know. This is just so… wow. Words are failing me.
But school is amazing. To be doing well in it is amazing to me. Why am I so surprised? Why I am surprised that an intelligent, great writer, great composer, should do well? Why am I surprised by this? I have my therapy coming up, and I may talk with her about it. Is it lack of self-confidence? Maybe. But it feels more like a check against becoming an egoist. Like, I don’ t want to believe in myself too strongly or think too highly of myself because then bad things will happen. Actually, me and the therapist have talked about this a little already, this fear of doing well and being confident about my success in school. It’s just holdover fear from being a kid and being teased, bullied by my peers when I did well. Though, I supposed ‘just’ doesn’t apply if it’s still got a grip on me. Maybe ‘from’ is good enough. There’s no judgment there.
I’ve often wished I could just do music, not have to do this day job. Now with school, I’m getting a glimpse of what it’s like for life to be like that. It’s a shift, and it will take time, but being on the road to it… maybe I need to enjoy my journal more, not so much focus on the destination? But even that isn’t it. It’s that I *am* enjoying the journey so much. To come into this work place feels like, like going into a coma or a zombie-state. No, that’s not right. More like, walking back into a Twilight Zone episode where I’m some office guy under florescent lights instead of the musician I really am.
Oh, and my coworker is having major B.O. problems today, which definitely doesn’t help.
Seminar this week was amazing for me. Every week we have a scholarly article to read and a response paper to write on it. The one we got back this time was one I’d been dreading getting back, at least a little. In it, I argued about the importance of emotion in music and how frustrating it is that scholars continue to leave out this vital aspect of it. I thought my writing was a little heavy-handed, or that the opinion I was expressing wasn’t one that was allowed or something. There was something in the writing that I felt as I was writing it like well, this will never fly but I feel so strongly about it, I’ve got to write it. So we got the papers back and I got a 99/100 – my highest mark yet. I was stunned.
I’m still a little stunned. I’m not sure at what point I’ll get over this feeling. I’m doing well in grad school—really well. I know I won’t get high marks on every paper, and no doubt there will be serious struggles, but with all the hard work I’m putting in it feels so good to be rewarded for it.
As a brief aside, it really makes work annoying. Lame. How suck that I’ve got to deal with this bullshit everyday. And it’s not bullshit, of course. I’m doing this for a reason. I want to not have to stress over money while I’m in grad school. It’s a trade-off I’ve chosen to make, and I really think it’s the right one. I won’t have to do this forever. But after a rush like last night, to walk in here today… I don’t know. This is just so… wow. Words are failing me.
But school is amazing. To be doing well in it is amazing to me. Why am I so surprised? Why I am surprised that an intelligent, great writer, great composer, should do well? Why am I surprised by this? I have my therapy coming up, and I may talk with her about it. Is it lack of self-confidence? Maybe. But it feels more like a check against becoming an egoist. Like, I don’ t want to believe in myself too strongly or think too highly of myself because then bad things will happen. Actually, me and the therapist have talked about this a little already, this fear of doing well and being confident about my success in school. It’s just holdover fear from being a kid and being teased, bullied by my peers when I did well. Though, I supposed ‘just’ doesn’t apply if it’s still got a grip on me. Maybe ‘from’ is good enough. There’s no judgment there.
I’ve often wished I could just do music, not have to do this day job. Now with school, I’m getting a glimpse of what it’s like for life to be like that. It’s a shift, and it will take time, but being on the road to it… maybe I need to enjoy my journal more, not so much focus on the destination? But even that isn’t it. It’s that I *am* enjoying the journey so much. To come into this work place feels like, like going into a coma or a zombie-state. No, that’s not right. More like, walking back into a Twilight Zone episode where I’m some office guy under florescent lights instead of the musician I really am.
Oh, and my coworker is having major B.O. problems today, which definitely doesn’t help.
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