It’s been a few weeks since I left the comic book shop. I’m glad to have gone through the experience of being a professional nerd, to have met the particular set of challenges involved and flourished, but I could tell it was time to quit when the stress was carrying over from one shift to the next, even with days between.
Without the need to run tournaments, or the pressure of dealing with customers, I have a chance to breathe again. That means doing my best not to worry about being productive or happy. Just trying to feel okay can be enough of a day-to-day challenge.
Their special bond comes from the fact that she lets him get away with more than I do.
Heather and I are taking the next few months off to regain our balance and adjust to our new dosages of SNRIs. Now that I’m in a place where I’m feeling more safe and secure, I can tell it’s still hard for me to let go of negative thoughts, even when the stimulus is gone. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I’ve been fighting depression my whole life, and the fact that I’ll likely be on even more medication for the rest of it.
I wish I could turn to writing for catharsis, but I’m not strong enough to process the memories. Parts of the past are still too recent, too familiar, too painful. And sometimes it’s hard to think of the person I was only a year ago, even knowing how far I’ve come. I’m starting to realize that time is what I need most, which means I also need patience and trust from my friends.
The only commitments I’ve kept are my playgroup on Sundays, and my Wednesdays with Lisa. Otherwise, I’m lost in Guild Wars; the easiest way to escape and feel productive at the same time is to work on daily achievements by slaying dragons.
And that’s how I lost the Autumn. I didn’t even realize the leaves had turned and fallen. Now that I’m not working (and I’m the one who always hosts), it feels like I never leave the house. The only reminder that winter is here is when the heat comes on, and the smell of dry furnace air fills the room. I was looking forward to the first snowfall of the season, but the plows have already been out and I haven’t had a chance to take it all in.
I still have fond memories of the fall. It’s when the light is at it’s most neutral, not warmed by the summer sun or cooled by it’s reflection on the snow. The time of long showers, kitties being even more affectionate, and girls always finding the right spot to nestle under your neck.
On particularly bright, chilly days, with all the leaves a flat lemon-yellow, I can hardly take it all in.
We are on this planet to move our cats directly in the path of a sunbeam every 15 minutes.
The sunbeams form a celestial calendar across my floor, slowly creeping along as they threaten to warp the wood in my instruments, reminding me that I haven’t spent a winter in this room yet. I can only hope the memories will be better this time around.
These days, I still dream of a nylon-stringed beauty, with warm tones and crisp bass close to the saddle. I wonder what she’ll feel like under my fingers, mahogany or rosewood, satin or glossy. It’s a dream that never seems far away cause I know it’ll happen some day, so I try to cherish the anticipation.
I’ve been feeling particularly nostalgic. When the right song comes on, I’m taken to the time in my life when it was the only thing I played for a week straight. I used to write so much, but lately I hardly have anything to say it all. That’s why I’m addicted to the feeling of feeling, searching for inspiration, using my dreams to keep me alive.
In the middle of this heat wave has come a hailstorm that’s dented the shit out of every panel of my car, followed by a series of uncharacteristically cool nights. I slept with the windows open, and the breeze kept me content to be wrapped in my duvet until waking.
It may as well be a lazy Sunday morning in Autumn as I write this, sitting by the warm light coming through the blinds, waxing nostalgic about more than I care to admit. I’ve been trying to write, but I don’t know what I’ve been feeling lately.
Maybe it’s cause I haven’t had time to think. And it’s only going to get busier in the foreseeable future. I’d like to spend more time alone, but that seems a luxury that’s quickly disappearing. When I’m trying to nurture the relationships that are important to me, it’s hard to refuse a hangout, and making regular plans quickly fills the week.
Tiana taps two swamps to add two black mana to her mana pool, and increase her sexiness to nerds everywhere by 500%.
Probably a good thing, cause I also feel like I’ve been spending too much time alone during my bouts of introversion.
It’s also been a while since I stepped out of my comfort zone. I guess I did enough traveling last year to know where my boundaries are. Since returning from my sojourn in the Old Dominion, I’ve been too comfortable, and slowly I’m being forced out of it as life catches up with me. But I know I can handle things, cause I’ve done it before.
So I’m trying to enjoy what I have now, caught somewhere between day and night, isolation and over-stimulation, work and play, summer and fall.
People are forgoing their heavy coats for light jackets, even a litte skin. But winter still lingers in the crisp air, a reminder that it hasn’t been long since those frigid nights, but that it’ll soon be warmer and brighter. On the right days, I can wake up with the warmth of the sun on my face, drive with the windows down, and eat dinner in the daylight.
The cats sit intently by the back door for hours, listening for any birds come home for Spring. They haven’t heard any since last year, and for Byron, that’s pretty much a lifetime. Nowadays, I measure time by how much heavier feels every day. There’s a comfort to be found in knowing that your cats are growing and healthy.
It feels like so much of what I used to cherish has fallen to the wayside. Like I’m relentlessly trying to catch up on sleep, on time spent with friends, on guitar practice, on various projects, on getting to inbox 0. With time now such a valuable resource, I’ve been re-evaluating things to salvage as much as I can. Figuring out the difference between what I truly enjoy and what I enjoy because I think I should, between what I need and what I want.
It’s strange to think that I’ve ended up here, and yet it’s hardly different from where I was not so long ago. Life is always interesting, no matter what age you are, and regardless of how you think you’ve settled into it. If you’re doing it right, at least.
I awoke after five minutes — or five seconds — to a changed world. For a moment, I was free of feeling…love, hate, jealousy. And it all felt like happiness.
—Maurice Bendrix, The End of the Affair
A fog hangs low in the streets, illuminated by the indirect rays of an unrisen sun, leaving everything was awash in grey instead of white.
The seasons are changing. Winter is officially over. It never recovers from a day like this, when the inevitability of spring can be felt on your skin, as tangible as any snowflake or raindrop. This is when I can look forward to sleeping with the windows open again, a ritual made only sweeter by it’s ephemerality.
And with that moist smell heavy in the air, I forget all else.