Steady, Are You Ready?

I'm back to life. Back to reality. Those brief vacations are needed - Fuck living earthbound every day of my life. I'd like to dance all the way away from earthbound, but I'm a grownup now.

Because of that it's more of a waltz. I dip toward the thing regularly, twirl away for a moment when I can. Come back to it in grand form. My goal is to keep the ratio somewhat even. A state of grace.

Noteworthy: I just tried to find a video of Black people waltzing. Shocker - none to be found. Fuck that, too.

I have not checked my professional email in about a week. Not ready to deal with it all. It seems dumb and pointless. I don't want to wear the yoke anymore. Just do what I need to do so that I can do what I want to do.

Working from home today. Which means - since I don't have all my furniture here yet - working in the pink room on the impossibly tall but still too narrow bed. Buck up, buttercup. Better times ahead.

It also means that I'm not wearing pants until 5pm when I venture out into the Real World. And that I made a desk out of a Wolverine special edition box, at which I conduct all formal communication from The Bed. When I do don the yoke, I plan to do it like a superheroine as often as possible. Fuck all dumb shit.

My new job (well, new in that it's the last one I secured and that was in October twenty twelve) is really deluxe. Much better than my last semi-permanent gig, with all of its outdated regulations and status quo devotion. If I have any regret at all about leaving that place so abruptly it's that I didn't get to work on Ludacris' website.

Stream of consciousness, much? Yes. I don't care if this is linear. This isn't my life story. Just the edited for TV version, what you'd see if I had my own unreality show.

I'm now the weird lady that goes solo to random restaurants and bars in order to read comic books and drink double whiskeys before leaving abruptly. I might trade the comics up for something more cerebral, but comics engage many senses in a start/stop/start sort of way, and if people think I'm a nerdy dumbass because that's all I ever carry around with me that's pretty much their issue to handle. I've decided that's another thing that can Fuck Off.

It has not hindered my ability to attract a random stranger, though. Another state of grace: looking the way I do I end up being hollered at by dudes ranging from 24 to 55. Not that I think I'm all that, just that I come across a Conversation Piece. I have many hooks and points of entry. I close them off as needed, tip very well, pack up my book and get the fuck out just before business cards need to be exchanged (or cell phones populated, in the case of the younger gents).

I waltz back to reality, the version of me that is supposed to be the most Real. My shrink says it's something even deeper. Some days I'm inclined to agree with her.

Today is one of those days. Back to life. Back to reality. If I ever stop and think I can't dive deeper. Well. Fuck that thought, as well.