Been a minute, eh?
I feel like 80 percent of blog posts around the world must start with some explanation or acknowledgment of space between posts.
Which is boring and annoying to be honest. And yet here I am participating in the tradition.
I'm sitting here in a big ol' chair that could almost be a love seat listening to the Iron & Wine Pandora station.
An ad just came on, after one song. Ads on music stations -- and YouTube, and Prime -- and those interruptions every time you enter a website to tell you about their cookie policy or to ask for your email address in order to get 10 percent off -- all these things are my new nemeses.
I'm very cranky these days, in quick bursts or for several hour sprints. It's fun for all involved.
I'm continually restarting my pluck. Lots of walks around the block, occasional walks away from devices, forcing myself outside, forcing myself on a FaceTime call, reminding myself to be grateful.
Someone needs to take away my Amazon Prime account, for sure. Anyone need some candles, toothpaste, vanilla syrup? I've got it all, Friends.
I'm applying to jobs, all of them. Every kind, size, flavor. Cycling between feeling like Icanofcoursewhywouldyouevenquestion crush that HR director job even though I have no experience and feeling like I would never be accepted for a baby girl internship for an online 'zine even though I have a master's in journalism and my byline is easily searchable already.
Life is a lot of cycling these days. Content, grateful, looking forward. Angry, agitated, ready to give up.
Cycle cycle cycle. Maybe I should order some biker shorts to coordinate my outfit to these fluctuations in my insides. I'm sure Amazon has them available in multiple colors and patterns...
I still only personally know one person who has contracted covid (that we know of). He was hospitalized and is home now, doing much better. I know friends of friends who have been sick or died, and I am still in awe that it hasn't brought grief upon my life yet.
I think I watched video of the Beirut explosion twice, and that will be it for me. Too upsetting, too big, too much distanced terror to take on.
I've read more news than I ever did before. Even as a "journalist" I've never been a big media consumer. I really like the Apple news aggregate app on my iPad mini, but there are certain days that I have to say, Nope. Not today. No news today.
More and more and more (and this has been building for several years) I operate my life inside a bubble, in order to enjoy it and not get super upset and overwhelmed and just done with everyone and everything. I do my best to control who I talk to, when, what we talk about. I control what I watch, listen to, read, follow.
Some people probably don't want to hear this, but in many ways I really hate the world we're living in, and I'm waiting until it's not quite like this anymore. I figure this will take several years to be a reality, so cross stitch and cats and bubble gummy Disney shows here I am. I know that the world has always been a place filled with great violence and pain as well as one filled with great humanity and strength and kindness, and I understand and agree with the arguments that it's always been equally, relatively rough. In my lifetime, however, I've noticed a marked shift in recent years that has really made me sour and made me not want to engage. I have opinions, I have thoughts, I have ideas for solutions, many that I think are measured and fair, educated and reasonable, but as an extroverted person who's made a life of conversation and expressing herself through words both oral and written, Friends, I'm just not interested in adding my voice to the noise. I don't want to be misunderstood, I don't want to give attention to self righteousness. I'm done.
I will always be here to listen, but I may limit my time and degree of engagement, and if you ask for my two cents please know I'm unlikely to offer it.
***
Max continues to be ridiculously excellent. I don't know how it's possible that the human brain actually perceives that our pets have gotten cuter every time they enter a room, but Lord help me if I ever have a human child because I'ma just be like SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE all the live long day.
I crumpled up a tissue earlier and he seemed very curious about it, so I put it between his paws which prompted him to get up, jump off the bed and leave the room.
Drama Queen. Like mama like baby kitty prince.
As many days as I remember I take fish oil, magnesium/zinc/calcium, vitamins B, C, and D. It's too hot for alphabet soup so I take it in capsule form for now.
I'm back on Prozac which has me crying way less. My therapist calls me on Fridays at 2. Sometimes he gives me homework, and he graciously lets me treat him as my life coach, walking him through the particulars of how I'm organizing my bedroom these days. He's helpful and kind and I am grateful.
I have been in good hands, taken care of emotionally and nutritionally and financially thanks to the many members of my tribe, the one that I've built and nurtured and polished for years. I am a girl with her dollhouse, moving the baby from her bassinet to the high chair, letting the dog out to go wee, opening the windows, adding a hutch to the great room. I frequently feel that I have fallen behind, bitten off more people to love than I can chew, but I do hope that every random letter, email, text, and TikTok giggle I pass along is helping y'all because y'all help me. I used to be better at my craft of friendship, I assure you; everyone got all the attention all the time. I hope you forgive me for being, well, more human now.
A friend of mine is sick and I don't know how to help her, given the tight parameters that germs have now put on us. She played a pivotal role in my life, she is always there for me. It's never about her. Now it should be and I feel my hands and heart are tied.
I am working on a cross stitch pattern that depicts the emotions from Inside Out, using so many colors pleaseth me much. I am reading To Kill a Mockingbird for my first time ever. Ms. Lee was a masterful writer. I would be done with it already but I always crack it too late at night and fall asleep within a few pages. But it's excellent.
And finally I've joined a cross stitch group on Facebook. Don't know what took me so long to be honest.
All righty, time for a chicken sandwich and some rosé and sticking my face into the bib of fir on Maxy's chest. He's so warm and unassuming and a good good GOOD boy. Baby.
Xox,
Max & Max's mommy
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