I have so many things I'd like to write about, just from the past month, but I simply can't. I'm working on a longer post, so I'll keep this one brief, and just touch on some recent events that seem note-worthy.
Without going into details, suffice it to say that, live everything on this project, finishing these last few deliverables turned out be a task that seemed preordained to be as difficult as humanly possible. And it was, right down to the bitter end on Friday, when it shuddered to an end.
I may have written this earlier, but my take on what happens next is one of two things: either there are major changes, or absolutely nothing will change. I hope I'm wrong, but I suspect it will be the latter.
The difference between me and "him" is that in the past, he thought a situation like this was what he deserved. I don't feel that way any longer. I'm BETTER than this job. I WILL get out of it. And it won't get the better of me.
***
I'm writing this while stretched out on the brand new couch that was delivered to my new apartment today. It is, I am happy to report, quite comfy. :c) I'm not very tall, but I'm all arms and legs; it is so nice to be able to fully extend my legs without having them hang over the other end, or be jammed into the other arm rest.
It even got my mother's seal of approval. We looked at several couches together. She dismissed the first three or four before sitting on this one in the showroom and declaring, "I would go with this."
I asked her why, assuming she would cite the color, the material, etc. Instead, she replied, "Because my feet can touch the ground." lol
***
At any rate, it is SUCH a relief to finally, finally be in my own place again, at long last. I have actually barely been here all week, because I was out literally every night last week, and all day today. But I think things will be slowing down, at least in comparison.
I saw M, my therapist today, for the first time in a month. I told her that one thing that has puzzled me is that I almost never cry. And I wasn't sure why. It didn't, and doesn't seem healthy to me, especially given how powerful the hormones are. I would expect (and hope) to cry. A lot.
She replied that living with my parents, at the house where so much trauma took place growing up, brought out my old survival instincts - don't let myself feel anything, let along express it. The fact that I wound up staying there for nearly eight months, compounded with this dreadful work experience, made it that much worse.
"Now that you're out on your own, finally, and when you get a new routine going, well, I suspect your emotions will become a lot freer in relatively short order. Because you can finally be yourself, at least at night. And that's a good thing."
It is. I look forward to letting go.
***
A few weeks ago I, along with my friends T and J, went to see Bela Fleck, one of the world's best banjo players, headline a bill with other banjo players he admired. The show was brilliant; all of the players were astonishing musicians.
A particular favorite was Richie Stearns, who plays in a rock band called The Horse Flies, and is also a solo artist. He attacked his the banjo the way I would imagine Jimi Hendrix would. It was remarkable to watch him wring a furious, howling, distortion- and feedback-drenched solo from an instrument I had never remotely thought was capable of producing such sounds. He was riveting.
We also visited the gift shop at the Shaker Museum, where J's best friend works. It was filled with work from local artists and craftspeople. I purchased several items for my new digs, particularly this lovely wall hanging:
But best of all was a treasure I found through sheer persistence. T and J were still Christmas shopping after I had seen all I thought there was to offer in the shop.
I wandered to the back of the shop, where I noticed an entire area that I hadn't explored yet. It was filled with row after row of ceramic works and pottery and the like.
I eventually meandered to the final row, which was dimly lit at best. There were a series of piggy banks, each made of whimsically designed creatures such as a gargoyle, a duck, and so on.
Being who I am, of course, I realized I was idly looking for one particular animal in particular, with little hope of actually finding one.
Until I did.
There, tucked away in the very last row, in the very farthest, darkest corner, was this charmer:
I loudly exclaimed "Yesss!", which prompted J to come over and, without seeing what I was holding say, "OK, whatever it is MUST be shaped like a cow." She knows me too well. lol
This handsome fella, I can report, has pride of place in the center of my brand-new kitchen table, which was also delivered today. He looks right at home.
Just like me. :c)
***
In December 1968, the Rolling Stones held the Rock & Roll Circus, intended to be a concert film with performances from artists such as John Lennon, Eric Clapton, Jethro Tull, and Taj Mahal, to name a few. The Stones also played, opening with a menacing take on "Sympathy for the Devil," which had just been released a few weeks prior to filming.
As masterful as their set was, though, the Stones were overshadowed by The Who's ferocious, incendiary performance of their first mini-rock opera, "A Quick One (While He's Away)". This is one of the best live efforts you will see:
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xci0fx_the-who-a-quick-one-while-he-s-away_people#.UKh2T7SwPcY
How good was this? Legend has it the Stones, intimidated by the Who's blistering set, mothballed the completed film for nearly 30 years before finally relenting in the mid-90s, when it was released on DVD. It was worth the wait.
Stay tuned for another, hopefully longer, post in a day or two!
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