Mystical Encouragement

Well, I'm still dragging ass, but today I feel a little more hopeful. Things seem to be pointing in a positive direction. For example I was able to find a housepainter who was willing to do me a solid and come this week so I can get my house refinanced. This was looking next to impossible last weekend. But the thing that I think is the most positive sign is a tiny yet unlikely stroke of luck. Last week I was sitting in a restaurant listening to a song that I really wanted to remember so I could download it. The trouble was, I had no idea what band it was, what the name of the song was, or even what any of the lyrics were. All I knew was that it was a somewhat obscure song -- at least to me -- from somewhere during the last 10 years. Lo and behold, yesterday when I was screwing around on the computer, without even looking, I happened upon the song (The W.A.N.D. by the Flaming Lips). I'm taking it as a sign that good things are going to start coming my way.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg

Reading back over various entries and assessing my mood this week, it's dawning on me that I appear to be a generally unhappy person. This kind of sucks. All my life I sort of thought of myself as unflappable and laid back. Now I'm starting to see that my seemingly cool exterior might be a veneer covering up a tortured individual. Today there is actually no question that I'm unhappy. (I'm still recovering from this weekend when MNB ended up getting to second base with his neighbor's big-titted 23 year old wife while I was sleeping in the next room.) I wonder though if my general willingness to stay with someone who is such an asshole, like my ex-husband before him, is because I'm just sad. Or, do I stay in a state of perpetual sadness because of my willingness to stay with someone who is such an asshole? Perhaps the world will never know.

Could this be the end of our unscrupulous heroine?

I've been feeling weird this weekend. This has sort of been my year of living dangerously. I think turning 40 and getting divorced sort of pushed me into hypermidlifecrisis mode. I've been less domestic than at any point in recent memory. I've been carousing more than at any point in the last 2 decades. I've been roaming around the country every chance I get. This weekend, however, I'm feeling exhausted and ready to settle down. Granted, this is probably a fleeting sentiment. I could easily end up doing drunken karaoke in parts unknown next weekend, but not if this malaise continues.

Maybe it's some sort of prehistoric instinct brought on by the falling leaves urging me to get the cave stocked & ready for the long winter months. Maybe it's my 40 year old body trying to tell me enough is enough. Maybe it's my dormant maturity finally fighting it's way to the surface again. Regardless, I can hardly wait to see whether this is a permanent state of mind (which would be a relief on some level) or just a passing phase.

the secret ingredient is love

I promise, I'm not going to write about about MNB. I'm thinking about him (because he just called to talk about how a couple of girls thought he looked like a lawyer today & bought him a couple of shots -- which he categorically refuses with me), but I'm not going to write about him.

I'm sitting in the cleanest room of my house (semi-productive Saturday) and I just finished watching "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," which I thought was very funny. I hate romantic comedies at this point in my life, but since this one had a break up involved, I didn't feel so alienated.

I also made a badass mixtape on mixwit. I called it "Time Freak." If you were sitting here with me, I'd make you try to figure out why I called it that. Since you're not, I'll give it away. All of the songs have either irregular time signatures or have something progressive going on time-wise. I'm sure the appreciation for this type of list is limited, but the secret ingredient is love, so it's a given that people will think it's delicious.

Somebody slap me

I think it would be great if I had a reset button like my modem. Sometimes I just feel like I need to be rebooted. Today, for example. It's Friday, the weather is p-e-r-f-e-c-t, and I'm staring a 3-day weekend in the face. However, none of these blessed events is registering with me. I'm walking around in what I sometimes call a "merciful fog." Most of the time, I could have shit raining down on me, but if it's sunny outside, the shit just rolls off while I'm smiling like someone in an Orbit Gum commercial. Somehow, it's not working today. Perhaps a little electroshock therapy is in order?

and she bunts...

I postponed my other rendezvous times 2 (what's the plural of rendezvous? rendezvouses?) & instead spent all weekend with MNB. It's so much easier to do what's familiar. There is, however, one of the two remaining potential suitors that I think might be a winner. He lives pretty far away, but not an unreasonable distance. I'm not ruling that one out yet. Oh, SF, the stalker I thought I'd deterred, is back on the scene. I started getting texts and calls from him again this week. One included most of the lyrics to, "I'm No Angel," by the Allman Brothers. That one filled up my stupid inbox. Then, Sunday, I got one around noon that asked if I was going to wish him a happy birthday. I didn't. So, I got a follow up about how "hardcore" it was that I wouldn't even send him birthday wishes. Hopefully he'll take the hint intended by the fact that I'm actively ignoring him. I'm starting to think he might actually be a little psycho. That would be typical. I've pretty much been a freak magnet my whole life. What's a girl to do?

Strike one

Okay. One down, two to go. The only thing is, after the first date this week, I'm not sure I want to go through with the others. I had really forgotten how weird it is to pretend to be interested in someone for a couple of hours when you knew after the first five minutes, it wasn't happenin'. The worst part of all was the awkward goodbye. After what seemed like a respectable time of making small talk, I was feeling the urge to sprint to my car, hop in, and put the ugliness behind me. But, instead I politely walked out with my date and when I did, it became apparent that he expected more than just a wave goodbye. So, after a few seconds of maneuvering, I effectively limited him to a one-armed, side-by-side hug. The guy was nice enough, but there was no way his face was getting anywhere near mine. I'm tellin' ya, it's rough out there.