If I try to explain that I haven’t been in the right frame of mind to write, well, then it just sounds like excuses. Which it is. Sure, absolutely, I’ve let myself down again, welcome to the shitpile that is Corey.
But, you know. Fuck it. It’s the last couple of weeks, the holiday ones at that, of a crazy fucking year. I’ve spent the last two months or so trying to get, not getting, and then ultimately getting another job at this place that, it turns out, may be as close to what I’ve been looking for since leaving California than I could have ever expected. I put in my notice at my current (less delightful, but still appreciate it getting me through the last couple of years) job earlier this week, and I just have to get through to the opening of 2021 to move the fuck on.
Also, shit, y’all. Did you see that fucking election??? Talk about wanting to keep your head down for two months after just until the smell clears. Every step forward on it comes with some caveat of “well, sure, yes, technically it’s over, right? But I’m not going to feel safe until this next thing actually happens.” And then it somehow actually happens, but you see that next bump, which shouldn’t even be a bump normally but now feels like climbing Everest with severe asthma and a broken right arm, and you’re like, “Oh sure, yeah, we got through that. But this NEXT BIT…”
Mom had her surgery finally. Trying to socially distance and also be there to help the parents out when they need it is challenging too.
So I’m a bit of a mess. Like, for me. Messier than my norm. And things aren’t going to suddenly shift to normal any time soon, right? They might get marginally better, maybe, god-willing. Or Existence might find a new way to kick us all in the goods. That’s how it’s been going for a good long while. I just read a Facebook memory from like eleven years ago that was all, “Hey, this company wants to try to help me lower my mortgage, I wonder if I should even try it.” Well, dumbass, you should have, and you should’ve pushed even harder, especially when you were out of work, but now you’re in Michigan about to try to do the whole mortgage thing all over again and, holy fucking hell, can you maybe do it in a way that doesn’t plummet you even further into misery for another decade or two? You won’t get any more chances to do this shit right is what I’m trying to tell you, so you better be fucking sure.
And you know me (or you would, maybe, if I wrote more and anyone actually read this shit), but I don’t ever feel sure about much of anything anymore.
But whatcha’ gonna do?
I’ve not only not made any headway on the projects I planned to be working on here, but I have totally latched onto a project that Levi is guesting on for another group of creatives, even though no one has asked me (Levi’s asked me for advice here and there, but I have no formal invitation). So I am I guess happy-ish that my synapses have found something that make them want to fire every once in a while. But also bummed because it’s not my thing and I’m basically fan-fictioning myself into a corner with stuff that will probably not go anywhere since I haven’t been invited to play (no disrespect to the people doing the project. They have no idea who I am or what I’m coming up with). And Levi, while the greatest guy in the world, keeps trying to involve me, it’s not fair of me to just throw shit on him as he’s technically a guest as well. It’s like the person you invite to the wedding and they didn’t have a plus one but they brought their loud cousin who didn’t dress up and drinks all the booze and dances half-clothed before the married couple even made it there from the church.
I think. I mean, I don’t do weddings any more. Some of that was very well-rooted in my personal history though.
I did my physical and drug test for the new job yesterday and I’m am now far more aware of how terrible of a shape I’m in physically. Like, I knew. But I didn’t have the numbers. So numbers are now present, and they’re large, round numbers. Also my eyes are just on the edge of non-functional, and I’m hoping it’s my prescription in my glasses is off, or something else, but I have a harder and harder time trying to see. So reading has been difficult if not impossible, and even using my computer(s) for work has been tougher on me. And yes, I’ll be sitting in front of screens in the new job too, so I need to do something about all of this. Right now, I just want to lay down with a heating pad to get this knot out of my back and nap until the weather shifts and the days are getting longer instead of shorter.
How is any of that new though?
That’s mostly it though. See? Nothing exciting. Nothing creative to brag on. Hence my silence is actually better, or at least less awkward than… whatever this is.
