what terrifies me right now is how hopeless i feel.
how little agency i have (or how much agency i have given up).
how unhappy i feel, and how much i wish someone would
reach down inside of me
stretch the muscles that make me smile.

my ghosts always come back to haunt me.

i'll never understand why i wasn't successful.  where i went wrong.  

some things never make sense.

i wonder if all the times don draper came home after a 12 whiskey-on-the-rocks work day and fucked betty like she was a blow up doll, if she just wished he would collapse into bed, push her hair back from her face, and kiss her forehead.  

betty draper is, in my opinion, the epitome of sexual frustration.  she has sex, yes, but it's never the kind of sex that she wants.  you can see the frustration in the way she smokes a cigarette with breakfast, and snaps at her children, and indulges the flirtation of other men.

"in bed, i chew my fingernails, and spit half moon slivers onto the carpet..."  i used to write about sexual frustration.  about a woman taking a man's virginity.  as if i could somehow, through my writing, undo what had been done.  i experimented and played.  i was patient.  i wanted.  and now, i'm being fulfilled, but i'm still restless, and i'm not writing, so i feel bottled up and shaken, ready to explode, bubbles coming from my eyes.

i feel like betty draper and i want to smoke a cigarette in bed, and lament the state of things, and put curlers in my hair.  it's too short for curlers.  i haven't any cigarettes.  

sunday,  i'm leaving for southern california with J.  i will take lots of pictures, and eat new food, and meet family members, and everything will be exciting.  i'm hoping for some kind of awakening in me, some shaking off of this stagnation that i've been feeling.  that feeling will be, in part, abated by this long needed spring break.  i tire of my job and i need the open road, and J's hand in mine, to put my mind at ease.

betty didn't show up in the season premiere last week, so i'm guessing she's a shitty character to feel like. gotta switch things up a bit.

I miss J so damn much!  hurr derp, i'm a taken woman.

my whole body feels oversized and clumsy.  two left feet, an aching stomach, hands that fumble over everything i touch.  i look in the mirror and sigh - my face is haggard, and tired, and old.

i want to take a sick day because i'm so sad, i can barely open my mouth.  i want to lay on my back and sink into my bed and cry until there is nothing left of me but a a puddle of salt water on the sheets.

but knowing me, and the apathetic turn my sadness tends to take, i'd just sit and stare at the wall until my eyes start to burn because i've forgotten how to blink.

so here are the things that i'm doing instead of working:

1. i'm drinking a pear cider at delta and enjoying the sunshine.

2. i'm worrying about my nonexistent resume, and how there's a recruitment for the Napa/Sonoma school district coming up in April, and i'm not nearly prepared for the job hunt.

3. i'm thinking about the 63 tests i need to grade over the weekend.

4. i'm avoiding PACT like the plague because i don't want to watch a video of myself teaching and listen to, over and over again, the way i slur my words when i speak.

5.  i'm feeling tired, and embarrassed over a number of things.  mainly my work performance.  i know i'm not living up to my potential.  

6.  i'm wishing i was in a creative writing MA program instead of the credential program.  experiencing major regrets.  i need to be reinvigorated.  

No matter what I do, it's never fucking enough.

Funny how that works, ain't it?

J and I had a fantastic weekend of stratego challenges, art museum walks, thai food, mario party, thrifting, record store browsing, and coffee drinking.  we visited naked lounge and sat on the patio like we did in the early days, and we held hands all day, and i was reminded of the many reasons why i like this fellow.

i'm home now, and all my hair has been cut off, and all i want is to eat cheesecake while i paint my nails and miss J.  no one - no one! - is as good at missing as i am.  i do it with gusto.  i do it with my whole body.  i put my heart into it.

i've finally come to terms with the fact that i am an early morning worker.  i get up at 6, i'm out of the house by 7, and that leaves me 3 solid hours to work and research and write.

today, i familiarized myself with ancient greek burial rituals.  i'm actually excited to teach such a dark and gloomy lesson today - odysseus descends into the land of the dead, coming face to face with his own fears. i think the kids will get really into the melancholic nature of the reading.

slowly, surely, i am coming to understand myself.  there are still difficulties, though: when the actions only effect me, i have no problem changing my behavior.  case in point, my work schedule.  i spent so many nights kicking myself, wondering why i was so unmotivated, why i felt so tired i could vomit...but as soon as i started going to bed early and waking up early, i felt better, and more complete.

when it comes to actions or desires that effect or involve another person, though, i am still reticent to speak up.  i still sit, fester, and stew in my discomfort because i am too afraid to say what i want.  that i want to be engaged with conversationally.  that i want to feel important.  that i want the trivial minutia that passes through my mind to be given voice, and a nominal level of importance.

sometimes i don't feel like i'm worthy of speech, because there are so few people who make me feel worthy of it.  so often i feel dumb when i open my mouth - or rather, that i should be struck dumb, and not have to concern myself with the anxiety of speaking.

nice things to have running through my head when i'm about to go speak in front of teenagers.  thanks, brain! 

even though i'm a fully grown adult, i still feel so sneaky "breaking the rules".

my parents are out of town on their honeymoon and i'm having my sweetheart over.  a boy in the bedroom, oh no!  

we're going to drink whiskey (even though it's a work night) and make pizza and play wii like little kids. for tonight, i'm going to push work out of my mind and enjoy a (very) rare evening alone, just J and I.

don't tell the folks! 

i don't know what's been going on with me lately, but i don't feel like myself.  i'm sluggish, my mind isn't as quick as i need it to be, i'm poorly motivated and exhausted.  i don't feel attractive or intelligent.  i'm lonely.

wahh, wahh, wahh.

there is still so much work to be done, and i've completely wasted this weekend.  now i'm in my working day, and i can't find the energy to really put my nose to the grindstone.  i'm freezing cold in my house and would give anything to have someone put their arms around me and tell me that i'm not as lame as i feel.

hooray for bad mood mondays.

i've given up ever being easily to get along with.  too much pleasing others and not enough selfishness.  so i will be stubborn and demand what i deserve; i will be a stick in the mud.

Well I was doing my best
Just trying to impress, still a sorry man
And I've got news for your ma
I'm the best she ever saw
No one could love your daughter like I do

woke up in the middle of the night last night to a needy, loud kitty and an anxiety attack.

toby was desperate to be let into my room, only to roam around for 5 minutes and then commence yowling at the door to be let out.  dumb cat.

i have a 13 hour day today.  teaching, a resume writing seminar, and my research methods class.  oh, the joys of graduate school!  i'm gearing myself up for it, wearing my comfiest skirt and pumping myself full of protein for breakfast, but last night, when i laid in bed and tried to control my breathing, i was not so confident.

panic attacks are the worst thing.  all rationality flies out the window and you watch yourself fall down into this pit, where the walls are slick with mud and grime and you can't get a hold to lift yourself out.  i'm a logical, reasonable person, but when i'm struck by anxiety, i am a child.  i stared at the ceiling in the dark last night and listened to myself say all variety of negative things - that i was terrible at my job, that i would never get to the end of my endless to-do list, that i would drive away everyone i loved with my dedication to this task.  beating myself about the head for an hour until i was finally able to stop whimpering and fall back into an uneasy sleep.

this morning, i do not feel rested.  

listening to this while I prep at the recommendation of a facebook buddy:

ambient noise for 24 hours.  i feel like i'm on an airplane.

crossing my fingers!

the job interview is today.  he will get it, he will get it!

i'm at coffee republic on folsom munching on a bagel slathered in brie and cranberry sauce.  my lesson plans look good and i'm feeling confident about friday's class (even though i still have a lot of prep to do).  i got to wake up next to best friend this morning.  it's almost the weekend.

i can make it.

i am full of contemplation today.

it was one of those nights where i went to bed inexplicably upset and woke up in a similar funk.  i'm working with myself to try and figure out why i go through these down-turns, but sometimes, i don't have the answers.  i had to fight with my body and mind to go to work today and put on a smile and an authoritative stance for my students.  i cannot let them see me weak or tired.

when the day was done, i stole the two hour break and ran home, climbed in to bed, and slept through my sadness.  it made my limbs feel a little less heavy and made coming to class tonight a bit easier.  still, i am not focused.  my mind is in a million places at once.

i understand that in part, my sore mood is due to me missing and wanting J.  i am frustrated by the distance between us, and that i only get to see my best friend on weekends.  it would be so much easier if he could just come to my house in the evenings, if i could just have him more often!  it makes me feel greedy and childish to want so much, but it's not unreasonable to crave the company of the person you love more than anything.

patience was never a virtue of mine.  but i'm working.  i'll get better! 

hold fast, the last of the true.  a friendly reminder.

i got hit with a bit of bad news last night.  after doing my taxes, i found out that the grant money i've been receiving from the university over the past 5 months is being counted as income, and with that, i am no longer eligible for my tuition waiver through Cal Vet.

i haven't had a paycheck since July.  the piddly grant checks I get every 10 weeks are all i have to survive.  i've been living in abject poverty, shopping second hand, spending nearly everything i have to put gas in my car, and this is what i'm left with.

if i want to finish my master's, i'll have to either pay out of pocket, or take out student loans for the entire cost of tuition.  i feel sick to my stomach just thinking of it.  i don't understand how they can count grant money as income.  i could not have opted out of receiving that money even if i wanted to, even if i had known in august that it would come to this.  i feel duped, and it's making it hard to get motivated to go to work today.  i bust my ass for nothing, not a cent, only for the betterment of myself and the intellectual advancement of 70 14-year-old kids.  the school i work for is damn lucky i love what i do so much.

J told me last night not to worry about things until i've gone and talked to a counselor at the Cal Vet office.  i'll be doing that today, though i'm nearly sure that there is nothing to be done.  still, i'm taking deep breaths and trying not to panic.  i have more important and immediate things to worry about.

speaking of J, he has a job interview today at his first choice place of employment.  every ounce of extra energy i have is focused on sending good vibes into the big blue, hoping and hoping and hoping that he gets the job.  it would be so wonderful to have some kind of paycheck coming in.

good luck to him, and good luck to me.  today is a day when we both kinda need it.

the triumphant return

so i stopped writing and let my life move forward.  now that i'm at a comfortable spot and i'm tired of movement, i'll write again.  funny how that works.  

i feel rusty and stiff, like i've been folded up in a box for the past 12 months and all my joints have calcified and turned to stone.  i need to stretch my legs and crack every knuckle in my fingers.

i need to breath a big old exhale and relax into writing again.  slow and steady.  we'll see how this goes.