Writing Myself Up From Way Down Here

I am in a weird space these days. I come here every now and then. It is a space where my dreams don’t make sense and nothing I do or think about inspires me, where my life seems like a big annoying bully that keeps pulling my pants down and laughing. Why do I come here anyway? Basically I have nowhere else to go and no fuel for my vehicle. I am stuck in Lodi without a bus ticket, but I am writing again and that helps, even when I write this self-absorbed drivel. Just the act of putting something out there that seems like it has me as part of it, that will thankfully be ignored by the vast lucky majority of human beings, is somehow good for me. There already I am feeling a bit better.

I have a job that I like, but is not very stable and drives my wife crazy with its flaky way of paying me. I really would like to find another job, but have you looked for a job lately? My landlady (a well-meaning, clueless miserly woman; she probably has her reasons) came by today and gave us a month moving notice, even though we are very conscientious tenants. But, since she was lucky enough to inherit property, we live here and give her our money at her leisure. I told her our situation, Mary in school and me with my measly job, and that in August when Mary is working again we could find a place. I think I was able to get her to back off a little. We are taking no chances and are looking for a storage and trying to figure out where we could find a place that would rent to us at our income level. Mary has school to finish and a big test in July for her RN license, and then she has to get a job. She is already applying, but hasn’t heard back from anyone yet. She is under a lot of stress, which also sucks the serenity out of my life. Still I go to work and cope and come home and try to write and, most days, fail. Ideas have a hard time working their way through the groggy, edgy place that is my sleep deprived brain. I don’t sleep well when I am in these situations. Maybe if I write I can sleep. This is actually helping and I know I should do it more often, even though a post like this is likely to bore the hell out of most people. This is my place and it helps me;  so here it is. This is where I am now. I hope to be moving soon into more plush accomadations that have a better view, but I will have to climb a bit to get there.

This entry was posted in can't really complain but, discovery and recovery, Family, House and home, internal landscape, thinking in words, visions from the dark side, whereever you go there you are, working world and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Writing Myself Up From Way Down Here

  1. Nice to see you’re still around, though I wish that things were going better. I can so relate to your post. I guess a lot of us are in “climbing” mode these days. It WILL get better, and soon, I hope.

    • randomyriad says:

      I keep pullin’ at those bootstraps, but it usually just gives me sore fingers. By the way, I think your granddaughter is quite a “QT”. Note the upper case.

  2. Maybe we could patent some bootstrap pulling gloves. Then we’d become millionaires, and we wouldn’t have to keep pulling them any more.

    Thanks for the compliment about the pea. I will never get used to terms like “your granddaughter.” Someone sent me an e-mail last night and called me “Grannie Moonbeam.” Wahhh….

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