(no subject)

Stolen from a friend's locked post:



FYI, I'm generally at threat level yellow, spiking to orange and red in the first hours after taking my medication. Which I'm going to do now, then take a walk.

(no subject)

I am right now sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, wearing a comic-book t-shirt (Kabuki), playing KoL (meat-farming at the Icy Peak), and singing along with "Baby Got Back".

I am so Adam's dream girl right now.

parting

I have found myself getting teary about leaving Atlanta. I don't rightly know why.

I have lived in Florida, in Utah, in North Carolina, in Nevada, in Arizona; back to Florida, then to Atlanta. I have lived in Atlanta longer than I've willingly lived anywhere else. (I spent the first sixteen years of my life in Florida, but I didn't really have the option to leave then!) I have lived here only for Adam. I have sunk into the ground here, unwillingly rooted.

Until I came here, I did not have all of this stuff weighing me down, these material accretions. I'm overgrown now with possessions, like barnacles. Hell, until I had Elayna, I prided myself on my ability to pack up my entire life in under an hour. I went from North Carolina to Vegas with just a duffel bag of clothes, a typewriter, and a suitcase full of my stories.

And that is still my nature. I went to Boston for a full week, for Arisia - and had only a small rolling suitcase, the kind that fits in the overhead compartment. For my recent trip? Just a backpack.

I look around here, and all I see is stuff, and I resent it. Big boxes of unpacked wedding gifts - six settings of fine china. Wineglasses. Blender, mixer, food processor. Appliances, desks, dressers...

I don't want this; I could move today, just a few suitcases, this laptop...

I go for walks and think of photographing my route. I wonder every time I go to JavaMonkey if this time is the last time. I say to static_eddie "We should make Thursdays a regular movie day," but I know I'm not long for this place.

I have been ready to go for over a year. My escape was promised, but promised by a liar. The escape is something I must, and will, do for myself.

I have been working so hard for this, in ways I don't know if I should tell you.

I have been so restless.

And this escape - I know that, wherever I go, I must spend seven years there. Must allow Elayna to finish middle and high school there. Unfair to keep moving her around. Must find a place and stick.

I am not meant to stick. Sometimes I think that when she graduates, when she goes off to college, I'll leave home as well - go everywhere, with just a suitcase and a laptop and my restlessness.

The things we do for our kids. The things our kids don't know we do for them.

So yes. Here's where I am today, this week - teary and overemotional and wanting to build a bonfire in the backyard and just burn everything, because I don't need anything. No more being trapped, buried.

I was never meant for this place.

(no subject)

81,000+ words.

My eyes are boogly and my hands are cramping.

Adam is taking me out for a milkshake.

(no subject)

....and, at almost 100K, I'm done pulling the raw material for the epilepsy project out of my LJ.

That was grueling.

Now I make it into a book.