Paging Dr. Flamenco: Day Five


It’s me.

I’m here.

I’m going to do this.

You know, like we do.

Sorry that I’m off, it’s not just the fact that I’ve been intermittently bleeding from both north and south poles, but it’s been a day and I’m dog-sitting.  My dad’s here, but his schedule is all screwy so somebody’s gotta let the dog out which I should probably do in a minute here.

I had a good therapy session today.  I didn’t cry, though I keep wanting to for various reasons, just because it would feel good.   It still would, if I  could make it happen.  The music on Parenthood which is playing in the background is making me weepy and maudlin, but I’m amused and calm about it.  I guess.  No actual tears yet, though.

It ebbs and flows.

The therapist suggested that I need new friends.  Funky friends.  Who do yoga.  it sounds, I think, like I’m casting aspersions on the suggestion.  I’m not.  It’s actually something that would help me calm down, stay in my body, get connected to my body.  The yoga, obviously, not the funky friends.

So I am looking.

I have ideas about starting a writing group.  Trying to find an existing one is not turning out.  Though maybe I want one a bit too local, hence, the ideas of starting one and the work space might even work to host it.  So I’ll ask about that before setting it up.   After talking today, I realize how much I try and be an auto-didact and I think that mostly I give up because I want someone to pay attention, I want someone to care, and that I can care about and in the absence of that…I languish in unread blog posts and that’s…yes.

Sorry, this shouldn’t be so hard.  I’m distracted by watching this dress show.  I feel like ..


Things I love: the quietness of this house right now.  Working on my resume, OMG. That tomorrow is Friday and I’ve got faith that it will go well.  That I’m working hard on not fucking up the diet.  That making better choices that are congruent to my hopes for this.

Things I’m grateful for: the ability to go to therapy and get all that good feeling out of it, get reset mentally, and remember that I count, that it’s not all work.  Having mentors and people to throw ideas around with.  I’m grateful that the things I ordered came in on time.

Wouldn’t it be nice if: Mr. 1% came by.  I haven’t even checked to see if he snuck in with the flag without my knowledge.  I need to save or kill the feelings.  It would be nice if I didn’t have to kill them.  It would be nice if that were the case.

These women are way too tanned for my taste.  It’s only unpleasant because it’s so fake.  It looks like you would have to get it off with a chisel.

Sorry, eeek! I will do better tomorrow.  I’ll give you a bit of the story tomorrow, I promise! A Friday Night Special!

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