the 19th week

This past week's been filled with its highs and lows.

I'm not sure if there were more highs than lows, but looking back... It wasn't bad.

And I got some good writing done. Moving forward!

Monday. With Jon gone and the store understaffed, my Monday shifts are now regularly 6:30-3:30 (which I don't really mind). After work I spent the day writing, and when it was all said and done, I felt sad and empty. How strange that the very thing that makes me feel alive also gives birth to sadness. Perhaps that's just the nature of things. Brandy and Jake came over, and everyone was hanging out, but I stuck to myself. Isolation: it's what I do when life weighs heavy on this koala heart. Rob made some Congo coffee and I had some, and then I went for one of my drives: out to Eden Park and back again. A drive I've made too many times. I don't know why, but driving through the park at night with the city sleeping in the valley makes me feel better. It's a ritual, something I can control. And I've been dreaming about losing teeth again, and I always have those dreams when I feel trapped and powerless to break free. Trapped in what? Hell, in my own head 1/2 the time. But, no, I think I'm trapped in this unending cycles of daring to let hope breathe only to be reminded, over and over, that there's a reason I've been suffocating it all along. I've buried hope in a shallow grave only to resurrect it at the first taste of something good. Maybe I just need to dig the grave deeper this time around, or muster enough calloused self-control to not pick up the spade when I see hope stirring. Never-mind all this, the grave's been opened and now it's time to fill it in again, time to clean up the mess that's been made.

Tuesday. I treated myself to a vegetable omelette at The Anchor and did a hefty amount of writing. I tried keeping my chin up at work, but we were understaffed and super busy and Amos and I missed training and got out an hour late, and I tried not to be frustrated but couldn't help it. Amos and I got home after dark, and Kassie came by to roast some coffee for the Jam Friday. 

Wednesday. Crazy day at work: three catering orders, out of product, super busy... Really, just like any other Wednesday, I suppose. By the grace of God I got out on time (even five minutes early!). Mandy and I hung out for a while back at the house, and Rob brewed some coffee. He went to do training at 600, and Mandy and I went to Roh's Street and got a pot of herbal tea, and she did homework while I wrote about zombies. Afterwards we went to Kroger and I got fixings for toast and cereal. We hung out with Amos in the kitchen for a while, and then Amos and I shot zombies. Mandy came running through my room when I was going to bed, ecstatic about how skypaing works. "It's like he's RIGHT THERE!" Ha, just like a little kid.

Thursday. I didn't sleep well last night, so I woke early and went to The Anchor to write. Work wasn't bad at all. The evening was cold, wet, and windy. The basement's flooding, and it's hard to stay warm. For four hours I literally lied unmoving on the sofa. No energy, no passion, no vitality. Not one particular thing, really. I'm betting it's seasonal depression. Winter: I hate it. And we're supposed to have a long winter. The wind and the rain, the biting cold, it's like my heart's looking in a mirror. I feel gridlocked in a state of suspension, going nowhere. All my striving and struggling, it's just me kicking my legs in open air. No real promise, no hope of anything changing. There's just me, and this: a life giving birth to and fed by disappointment. It's like I'm stuck in a revolving door, people going in and out of my life, actually going somewhere and making strides, and I'm no more than a passive observer to it all. Ams quipped, "We were both supposed to be miscarried, maybe we're not even supposed to be here so God doesn't know what to do with us." Heh.

Friday. Worked 7:30-3:30. It wasn't a crazy day, but I was certainly "off" and people noticed. "You okay?" Cat piped; to which I lied, "Yes." But, no, I'm not okay. Not right now. I'll be okay again, I know that much. But right now, no, I'm not okay. I'm disillusioned, shutting down, isolating myself. I'm a wanderer, and though all who wander aren't lost, this koala certainly is. I'm not sure of anything anymore, especially not sure of myself. I just keep seeing people happy and laughing, and maybe they're faking it, but I crave that. I hate how hopeful I am, how I give meaning to everything, how I can't just sit back and enjoy life but must deconstruct everything so that in the end there's not goodness but monsters charading as human beings. All those things I rant and rave against, they're things woven deep into the fabric of who I am, and I hate that. To make the day better, I dropped my IPOD in the toilet and it stopped working (after-note: it's working again), and I was stuck in traffic for two hours on my way to Dayton for the night. But talking to Mandy K. made the stop-and-go more than bearable. We talked for an hour, and it felt like 15 mins (which is saying something, 'cause I generally hate talking on the phone). I was supposed to watch Sky 'cause Mom and Dad are outta town, but Grandma was there so we grabbed China Cottage and watched a movie. Sky and I passed out around midnight.

Saturday. Grandma and I had coffee, and then I headed home. Rob, Amos, T.J., Mandy and I had Indian food for lunch. Oh, how I've missed that. I ran some errands afterwards. T.J. came over after his class at Cincinnati State, and we hung out for a while. I spray-painted and erected a new shelf to hold my speakers above my desk, and Rob installed a new screen door. The parts came in a heavy cardboard tube which we lit up like a smokestack using gasoline and match-books. Isaac and Andy came over, and Rob and I joined them for a trip to Rock Bottom. I had a Manhattan: two shots Maker's Mark with some bitters and vermouth. Definitely got me pretty buzzed, a benefit to hardly every drinking. I polished it off with some brewery pretzels, and Isaac and I smoked out by the fountain. They use blowtorches to clean it, and the Christmas lights are already up. It's not even Thanksgiving! Honestly I like Thanksgiving more than Christmas: eat, drink, be merry and be thankful. It's much easier to count scars than blessings, but life's filled with both.

Sunday. Today is Mandy K.'s birthday. Hooray! I woke around 9:00 and went to The Anchor for coffee and orange juice and was there for about two hours writing. I spent the morning continuing with my writing escapades and then went to the bank. Ams and I had a brother-sister date: we went to Newport and had lunch at Dewey's (I got a 1/2 and 1/2 pizza with Dr. Dre and Wild Mushroom), and then we browsed books at Barnes & Noble without making any selections. Everyone headed off to the Barista Jam at Carew, and I joined them after doing some more writing. I stayed for about two hours, got to see Hartman, Andy, and Amos perform. Amos, Blake, Ams and I hit up Rock Bottom for dinner (but since I was still full from lunch, I just had some of their bourbon barrel beer). It was pretty damned delicious. I headed home and got to talk to Mandy K. a bit, wishing her a happy birthday and all that, and then Amos and Isaac came back from the competition bearing good news: Amos placed first and will be, if I understand correctly, going to the Barista Competition in New York. Baller.