Distracted

While I was traveling with the girls, I made a deliberate decision that I would not think about what had happened with my Company (of course, the date of termination was the same day that I flew out). And I did my best to not think about the shit that MIVD pulled, or the future I lost and the man I loved. It is never good to count your losses when you have to keep things together for everyone.

But I am back now. In my apartment. There is nobody to take care of and no sights to see. There is no one here to break through the darkness and so the darkness and I sit side-by-side on the couch. We share a bag of pita chips and watch "The Fashion Police" because we don't give a shit but can't be bothered to change the channel. It is harder here. The sadness turns itself into fatigue and un-focused wandering. I want to work but I can't find the attention or the drive. I can't do the dishes. I don't shower. I tell myself that I will shower after I run. Sure.

I awakened early this morning. I put on the coffee, and told myself that I should find a new academic journal to submit articles. As ever, I try to focus my pain into good work. But everything is so diffused and I feel so tired. I want to go back to bed.

I made some phone calls; answered some e-mail messages. I spent a few earnest minutes working on my Italian. In spite of a rainy forecast, the sun was still bright on the cold day. I went to the farmer's market on main street. As I walked, I called my mom. She was at the department store, trying on pants. She put the phone on speaker. We didn't have much to say. I thought about "M" but didn't say anything to her about it.

At the market, I bought apples and yams and kale and carrots. On a whim, I picked up a 3-foot-tall Christmas tree for an obscene $30 because I spent last Christmas on the living room couch and that sucked. I carried it home and set it in a corner. I don't have Christmas decorations so I found whatever sundry items I could: the palm-sized Zebra Sjors gave me in 2010, earrings from an African market, and wine-glass charms I picked up in Zaanse Shans in May: a sterling silver windmill and a tulip, and a wooden-shoe.

I met Ann and Josh for yoga at 1600, but only barely because I got on the yellow-line train instead of the blue-line train and got off on Eisenhower instead of Van Doorn. Which was stupid of me and which meant I had to take a taxi from King Street to Van Doorn if I didn't want to miss the class. So it cost me.

 

At least I showered after yoga. And I spent a good 45 minutes talking to Tony, catching him up on the evolutions of my business.

 

They say that good living is the best revenge. But I don't want revenge. I want what was taken.