Out of Sync and Trying to Find Delight Despite Myself
I am apparently having a day.
I did art. Of at least 2 types I enjoy.
I put things in a pot, knowing at the end of the day, there would be yummy, hot, comforting food to eat for dinner. (Chuck roast. Potatoes. Carrots. Beef broth cube. Fresh ground pepper. Salt. Water. A drizzle of olive oil.) I was right. It was lovely. I also took concentrated orange juice and powdered sugar and made a glaze for an orange vanilla pound cake I had baked the night before, and I drizzled it over the bundt cake. And then I covered it and took it to work. I checked the break room before coming home and half of it is gone, which makes me very happy. (Not just because people ate it. Also because breakfast for tomorrow. There are 4 eggs in a pound cake. It’s totally breakfast.)
I also worked on a tattoo design of the tragedy/comedy masks with a ribbon with words on below. It’s much closer. I’m trying to decide if I want to scan in and try to teach myself vector design in Pixelmator so that I can get it all pretty and neat and tidy and colored and sized properly to take to my tattoo artist so I can say “This. I want this on my leg above the last tattoo please. How much and how long, so I know what to save, and when should we schedule it for?” But I’m scared of teaching myself a new thing. So I may end up tinkering more with pencils and paper for a bit.
And yet. And yet I’m sad. And I’ve felt lonely today. And I’ve felt as though I’m strange and different and Not Right all day long. There are weird moments, where I almost feel as though I found the correct key, and I’m part of the melody and I fit with my little silly, unique side bit, and then the main piece shifts into a major chord, and I twang discordantly in my minor key and I want to hide.
I tried to see the pretty things. There were several. I threw a frisbee ring so high and far. It was lovely and gravity defying for a moment. The leaves were drifting down in fluttering showers of yellow-orange-rusted-red to gather in the gutters, on the grass, in the street.
But I still came home tired.
And for a bit, my sweetheart was home. And we ate dinner together. And fed cats, and cuddled and played with them. And I got to curl up on the couch and just rest with my head on his chest, tucked up under his arm while he checked things and showed me things on his phone, and I mostly listened to his heart beat and felt at home; safe and loved.
And that was very, very good.
But it was still a day.
And now I want … something. Someone? Someone to talk to by typing, I think. So I’m blogging. Sometimes, I think it’s that I miss gaming on *mushes. Where there was socializing OOC and RPing that was really community story-telling or a giant game of “Yes, and then…” But I am so rusty, I don’t know what I’d do if dropped in such a world again.
Perhaps I am only feeling old. Perhaps it’s hormones. Perhaps it’s winter coming, and much as I adore Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas, I dread the anniversaries of loss.
I don’t know. I just wish my heart would settle and I could find focus in something for longer than 2 minutes.