The Ender and Her Game

Life is so wildly unpredictable in 2017.  This is the year of bonkers and inexplicable ends to eras.  The year of hairpin turns.  A year of growing up taking place in a month and a half.

I don’t know how I suddenly am shifting into a new job that I am not terrified enough about and yet, here I am, googling resignation letter samples and deciding that

Somehow, I know that they are really going to demand a sharpness of me that right now is oatmeal.  But while other people can look sharp as a blade and don’t want to do the work, I want to get in there and take on tasks.  I want to try.  Which is something, I suppose.  I was surprised with my ability to express that and convince the boss and her boss that I could do it with what I think was more earnestness than bullshit.

When I have a comfort level, I can rattle off a list of to-dos like a gatling gun.  I can move when I feel trusted and I’m hoping I can get to that point and not get shifted by personalities and demands.  Strength in myself is going to be key.  Being willing to say things are key and use adultspeak will also be key.

The parents are over the moon.  They’re crazy.  They don’t seem to question that I can handle it.  That’s nice.  They’re willing to help me if I need it through this transition (I will) and we’re having celebratory pizza next weekend.  The all-holy benefits.  I mean, life has given me this shot, I don’t want to fuck it up, I am just freaked out about my shitty habits and laziness in a job where organization and promptness is so essential.  So.  Being thoughtful, learning, reading, getting some support about it, and then…letting it go.

One way in which I can be distracted is the guy.  J.

I don’t know what I am supposed to do.  I adore him, really.  Acknowledging our imperfections, the alterations we’ve made in our lives to get by, what is not easily resolved, I think he’s wonderful. But I haven’t found the way in to the conversation I want to have.  It will happen, I know it will…

The thought in my head right now is that we have to meet.  I’ve thought that since early on, but out of the blue, that becomes financially feasible.  It becomes possible for me to buy one or both of us airfare and a hotel room and food somewhere – here or there or just somewhere in this universe – for a long weekend.  Before, it was this frustrating impossibility.  Neither of us can afford leisure travel. But, with the new job, supposing I don’t get sacked or thrown out on my ear, will mean that I can make it happen, at least once.

And I feel like we have to meet because this is so much fumbling and messing around and weirdness that has no organizing principle.  And that’s fine, that’s okay, I am completely tolerant of having an intense flirtation on the internet.  I know that land very well.  But there’s this piece of it where it’s also this other…real life component where it’s mutually agreed that it would totally be happening if we didn’t live in way disparate parts of the country.  It is utterly bizarre to me that I can send a current picture of myself standing in front of a mirror and that doesn’t make the whole thing dry up.  Instead, quite the opposite.

But I don’t have the money yet and this whole gaming project I’ve helped him with isn’t off the ground and so I don’t know if I should even throw out a test balloon and say, do you want to do this…you know, at some point, somewhere?  My Valentine essentially just acknowledged that something was even happening and he hasn’t argued that.

It’s both happening and not happening for us at the same time.

Break for 20 minute call.

…yeah, so that call was the perfect encapsulation of my thing right now.   I want to be understood when I say that I don’t want to stop talking about any of the things we’re talking about – gaming, language, food, jobs, all the endless things he  (and I) know about.  I don’t want to lose this intimacy of connection, the kindness he shares with me, the intensity at times of his feelings, the way we feel…close, the beginnings of trust, but at the same time…the distance exists.  So I draft in my mind how I would write the character’s return to the RP’er and then feel guilty I can’t let that go.   I would let it go, if I could just feel like that part of it isn’t locked away to us for some unspoken reason.  Like, it was okay for a while, and now…no?

Just have a conversation? HAH.  Why do that when I can whinge on the internet?

I am just in such a different, demanding place than I ever have been.  I feel tired and achey and the dancing around things I want is wearing me down.  I will figure it out, I just sometimes need to put words to it so that it has a home someplace other than battering about in my skull.

The tagline holds true.  “I will change.”  I have and I did and I am and I will.

 

 

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