Archive for February, 2017
I’m kind of reeling from the fact its not still September 2016 actually. I’m not sure how in hell time has managed to zoom past me before I’ve been able to process it. I guess it gets like this for me when I feel everything is just… too much.
Work is definitely a fact. My distaste for it has only increased for which I will cover over time.
Life: stale, stagnant. It’s hard to find anything worthy for which to write about even though I know there are a hundred little moments I have to choose from and have often thought, “Damn, that would be wonderful to write about, I need to do that as soon as I get to a keyboard.”
Then I decide I’m too tired to put it all into thought and put it off… and then put it off longer… is there anyone who has the skill level of procrastination I do?
Ironically, I’m not in a wave of depression. Usually I am when I’ve gotten to this level of apathy. No, this is usually the point where I’m dissatisfied with everything and I do something completely spontaneous…. like pack a van and move three thousand miles back to a family I don’t get along with, for example, because for some reason becoming a parent was making me stupid and nostalgic, I guess. Or leave my ex after five years of a terrible marriage, with only a rusty car and a hundred bucks and completely start over.
You know, the feeling of the need to set fire to the phoenix because the fucking bird isn’t taking care of things itself?
Unfortunately, now that I’m much much older, I can better recall just how much pain all of those spontaneous decisions caused.
I’d rather Spawn not know those pains. the months of no work and no money, the job hunt, the getting rid of everything, the reaccumulation to make things livable again.
It makes me realize I have to become something I’ve never been good at being. A planner.
I like being the “let’s go to the beach” at 6am type of person. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had any desire for that, and I suppose that is what I’m hoping to rekindle by being excessive. With everything being new, I have more motivation to want to see it. Being in the crack of Satan’s ass of the South just doesn’t move me to want to experience the outdoors much.
Of course, there is logical reasons for my daydreamed defection as well. Spawn is coming to an age where they are finally eligible for a pretty prestigious art program over the summer and eventually, a full-time school. I want this for them very much because Spawn wants it very much for themselves.
Although the applications haven’t been open for submission yet, and we haven’t been accepted or anything, it would be a gross injustice for them not to take my kid with the skill level they have. Many moons ago, I was accepted for a summer program there, until they found out I was too old (last year of high school) and was disqualified. My kid far excels me already, and they’ve just barely aged up enough to apply.
The school is over two hours away. And residential. More than being a kid attached to a parent, I’m probably more a parent attached to my kid. I can handle the residential part, but the distance troubles me, especially with a 10+ year old car.
I’m not attached to where we live. In fact, I hate it. Washington state or Oregon is more my jam, and that too will be put off for Spawn to seek out their dreams.
I regret none of it, I want them more than I have ever wanted anything for myself.