My mother wants me to post something to this blog. I've been focusing on the frugal blog, the new job and playing newlywed (which is, interestingly enough, absolutely no different than playing cohabitation). Which is a long winded way of saying--I'm so tired. So, so tired.

It's been years since I've had a job that required me to show up consistently and on time. The commute is a chore and...oh sweet baby jesus, I'm so tired.

So this will be short and totally unenlightened (sorry, Mom). I actually have some really amazing things to talk about--my new therapists' (yeah, that's right--PLURAL. I am truly a Californian now!) strange and amazing body therapy work, taking public transportation and living life as a loved person. But right now, I'm just too tired. I'll do my best to update this weekend.

I will end with this--I seem to have an ability to get what I want. I ask for specific things and I get them, down to the details. Not everything, of course, but most definitely the big stuff. This neat trick has taught me that what I want isn't always what's good for me and I'm not necessarily emotionally capable of accepting everything I desire. Which means I need to learn what is best for me, what works and where I need to grow. I'm trying to figure that out now as I develop a vision for what I'd like to cultivate next in the garden o' my life.

Verily I say to thee, intimacy is a bitch. And beautiful. And freeing. And worth it all. Every last insane bit of it.

Things I have learned over the past two weeks: naming hurt or concern in the moment it occurs will not result in death, intense drama, or abandonment; it is possible to inhabit your body and feel an inexplicable joy; it is possible to inhabit your body and feel pain and survive it; and love, be it romantic or platonic, is as simple or complicated as we make it. I have found that a simple, appreciative and joyful approach to love leads to a kind of happiness I never knew existed.

There is a shore and I can see it after so many years adrift. For every kid growing up in horrible conditions, every hurting soul who just wants to toss in the towel, listen to me: Keep breathing. Even when you aren't sure you can manage that, just keep breathing. Life is golden and the shine belongs to you too.

Just finished watching the documentary Into Great Silence thanks to Netflix's instant viewing option. I had to watch it in two sittings, but I absolutely loved it. It's like nothing I've ever seen--nearly three hours of footage following monks in an austere monastery in the French Alps. No soundtrack, no narration, only about three minutes of any kind of dialog. It felt more like an experience than a film, and made me realize just how far I've come from anything close to peace.

This two-day fest of monk love follows on the heels of reading Shane Claiborne's The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. The book has been largely delightful so far, despite Claiborne's inability to comprehend that his way is not The Way. This is what drives me mad about Christian folk of all varieties. We really have a hard time comprehending that our interpretation of scripture is not The Truth, The Way, God's Will or any other such drivel. It's just our interpretation. I appreciate Claiborne's dissatisfaction with the current state of mainstream religion and his commitment to living his faith. I'd just really love to see a white man come out and say, Hey! This is how I do it, but please don't confuse me with God itself. I'm just as clueless as you are. Here's why I believe what I believe. What do you believe? Instead, it's always some variation of, Hey! This is how I do it and therefore how it should be done. But I only do it this way, because this is God's way. You do want to do it God's way, right?

I miss G. I could chat with him about this. He was the most honest preacher I have ever known, and he was a white man! I remember railing once on conservatives and he reminded me that they were behaving exactly as I behave. Taking parts of the Bible that fit my personal theology, wanting to force strangers to follow my belief structure. It was at that exact moment that I lost interest in controlling strangers. See, dudes? It can be done.

Speaking of controlling strangers, a friend of mine recently had an interaction with some holy rollers from her born-again, scary upbringing. I am horrified at some of the things she tells me about the belief system in which she was raised. But don't worry. She's okay now. She's an atheist these days, which, in my opinion, is the only logical response to the lunacy she had to tolerate. But, I digress.

During the exchange, she shared that she used to try to "save" and/or convert her friends, because she was genuinely afraid for their eternal souls. She regrets doing that in hindsight. I can see where she's coming from in feeling remorse, but I saw a snippet of the strangest little French film that made me reconsider that regret.

The film showed a family at Christmas. The father was atheist but allowed the family to celebrate the holiday as a secular event. The father's brother then stopped by fresh from church with presents for the children. Dear ol' dad shared his atheist take with his brother and his brother shared that he had prayed for the father and their family, that they might find God. Instead of the expected response of the father flying into a rage, feeling offended, he thanked his brother, saying that he knew the prayer came from a place of deep love, friendship and generosity and he was honored and grateful to receive such a gift. They embraced, and I picked my jaw up off the floor and thought instantly of my friend.

Surely her desire to convert had more to do with her deep affection for her friends than any want of control. Yeah, it's fucked up to think that people are going to fry for not adhering to some interpretation of an ancient scripture. But it's not fucked up to love people so much you're willing to put yourself out there to ensure they have a life of peace now and in the great unknown. Couldn't we all do that a little more?

The older I get, the more I find myself looking for common ground. I'm tired of being angry and offended all the time. I started seeing a new shrink, one who focuses on body movements as a way to release trauma (it's crazy. I'll talk more about it later, but seriously? So healing. Talk therapy doesn't even hold a candle to this shit). As we were doing our little therapeutic exercises, he said something about how I've spent my life absorbing blows and waiting for the next attack. He's right. And I'm tired of it, which is why I found his doorstep in the first place.

Now, I find myself compelled to find the grace instead of the irritation. I want to find the common ground and the solution over endless raging about the differences and the problem. This same friend mentioned the book Eat, Pray, Love, which I hate with a violent, deadly passion. But she mentioned that the author is a seeker, and I opened my eyes. Yes, I loathe many aspects of the book, but I can appreciate that a female seeker wrote a book about an unconventional spiritual journey that made its way into the mainstream noise. I literally felt my chest open in that moment. That's how I want to approach life--not braced for yet another attack, but open to all the amazing beauty that surrounds us.

As always, things improve. Life really is a river, forever flowing and changing but always nourishing even in the midst of a flood. Hell, especially when flooding. Tomorrow, I am to hear the verdict on whether or not I got the new job. I will take a pay cut, and I don't care. I focused on making more money and succeeded. Now I realize there are more important things--the culture of the office, the quality of the people working there, etc.

Finally, finally! I have learned that the quality of my working world not only depends on the conditions I just mentioned but also on the quality of my life outside of the workplace. I don't play enough. I focus too much on work, wasting time both on the job and off.. There is not enough intention in my daily movements. Granted, I won't be living the life of some austere monk, but I can cultivate more play, more joy, more peace each day. First step: sign up for the site LSL mentioned recently, My Life List. Or at the very least, make such a list, so that I don't forget that I'm not here to become absorbed in what I do for money. I'm here to share the love I know, to be a joyful blessing to those I encounter, and there are millions of ways for me to do that. I'm lucky that my job is one of those ways, but it's only one. So much more garden out there to plant, water and watch grow.

There is so much to blab about. I wonder why I have abandoned this small corner of my world? ANYHOO...

Difficult things:

1. I finally told the tool in my office who constantly makes inappropriate comments to shut it. He made yet another comment about my cleavage and I lost it. Usually I deflect, insult and then move on. This time, I laid into him. Told him I was tired of the endless comments about my cleavage, my underwear (he's constantly asking me if I wear a "thong") and that he needed to stop it. I was exploding rage.

Fucker stood in front of me and denied he'd ever said anything like it before. Unbelievable. But here's the truly gross part--a couple of months ago, he was harassing a new employee. I told her she could report him to HR. He said, "Oh, I've been in this game a long time. I know how to handle this situation. I would just tell them that I was trying to help XXXXXX, because she wasn't following our dress code." And whaddya know? After I railed on him, he immediately went to the interim in-charge dude and used the same line, trying to cover his ass by saying we should address the dress code in a staff meeting. Little does he know, interim in-charge dude and I are buddies. Fuckstick.

2. Not surprisingly, I've been on the hunt for a new job. I have interview #3 today with a great agency. Going to meet the head honcho. I really like the other folks, so let's hope he's dandy as well. Say a prayer.

3. Had a really bad incident with one of my BFFs. It was layered on top of other unpleasantness. Finally understanding that she and I have very different ideas of what the ol' BFF means in action. Just...ug.

4. Desperately need to get working on the website and book proposal. Barely have the energy to breathe.

Good Things:

1. The boyfriend arrives in 14 days. We're getting hitched. Can't wait to see his smiling face. Thanks to the fine art of marriage, which is only available to a select portion of the population in my beloved state (fuck you, bigots!), we will be together year-round like a normal couple, instead of the endless 3 months on, endless months apart gig we've had for years. Praise Allah!

2. Reconnected with Curly Blue. A true BFF 15 years plus in the making who lost her infant son a couple of years ago. She drifted away at that point, understandably. She now has a beautiful little girl. So wonderful to hear her voice.

3. Cleaning ladies are the most amazing gift to give yourself. Glory be.

That's the brief update. I have to get some coffee in me prior to this interview. Say a prayer.

Therapeutic Revealation #564,342,255.1

I don't seem to venture here much anymore, eh? Yet I feel the need to share Therapeutic Revelation #564,342,255.1 with the two of you who still read this. Brave, brave souls.

Once again, I've found myself in a chaotic work environment. Although I fit in wonderfully because everyone is so frighteningly inappropriate, I just can't handle the insanity much longer. The organization is stellar, don't get me wrong. It's just a handful of lunatic fuckers. Of course, they happen to be the management.

Since I started last year, we've had a turnover rate of roughly one person per month. Supposedly two co-workers and I are also slated to go. So far in this job I've had someone flash her pubes and boobs, listen to the most repugnant man alive talk about how "fucking hot" my "tits" look, blah blah blah. Oh, you silly souls who think you want to "do something meaningful" with your lives! You have no idea the kind of batshit loons who go into the helping professions.

Anyhoo, the point is this: I keep finding myself in toxic and/or chaotic work environments. I figured it had to have something to do with my tragic childhood (cue violins), but I could never put my finger on it. A few hits o' the pipe and 30 some odd years later and I think I've figured it out.

Most women date their fathers. I work for mine. Not literally, of course, but the mythology is strong, children. My father was a lunatic drunk who raged. Each day, I used to run through the house, trying to uncover what he might find wrong and fix it. As every female creature who's ever tried to mitigate the violence of men eventually learns, there's no way to predict what will set them off. No matter what you do, you can't win. Ever. 'Cuz there's no way to beat violent and crazy.

This meant that I spent my formative years in a state of constant anxiety dipped complete chaos. I should have made the connection years ago at Habihell when I brought them the largest sponsor in the history of the entire international organization, only to be told I had somehow managed to fail (yes, I'm serious). But I didn't make the connection then. I guess I had to bash my head against a big brick wall of Daddy Issues a few more times before I figured it out.

So, I'm over it. If I can manage to cultivate a great relationship with a great guy, I can navigate my way though this mine field. I am not three years old anymore. I don't have to live in constant anxiety. My daily world doesn't need to contain lunatics. I have a choice now, and I no longer have any interest in choosing pain.

This is not to suggest that I am somehow insane and think there is a perfect job out there. But there is a good, sane gig to be had. I've begun the hunt, have already been rejected once (rejection is god's protection!), and am continuing to plug ahead with more interviews. But I'm going to be careful this time. I'm currently employed, so I don't have to feel afraid that the money is going to run out. I can sniff for the crazies. I can pay attention.

And that leads me to part two of this epiphany. I love this post from LSL. I'm telling you, if California would let us, I'd marry that girl and I've never even met her. But that's another story.

What I love most is that she admits it can be so hard to show up for yourself sometimes, but when we do, it's magic. I think I've read her post over a dozen times. Oy. I have 1,001 behaviors that aid me in checking out. It feels as if I abandoned myself long ago in some rickety boat and can only now see the land through all the fog.

A group of friends are gathering around, trying to motivate each other to Get Stuff Done and move forward on our "business" ideas (business for them; writing for me). Concrete tasks are part of the equation I left behind when I shoved myself out to sea. But I know that the tasks aren't enough. I have to wake up. I have to have honest conversations with myself. I have to sit with the discomfort and move toward the very thing I'm running from.

Again, I've only done what I learned in those formative years to stay alive. The ability to leave my body at a moment's notice and to function in absolute madness are the two skills that got me through some nightmarish years. But now, the same behaviors are holding me in a place that is long gone (and thankfully so).

Naturally, this will require therapy. Thank god I live in fruit 'n nut land, where such things are expected.

There's a lovely confidence and sense of self-assurance that comes with getting older. But it also seems to come with a greater sense of responsibility to the self. Can you hear it? It's Spider Man prattling on about how great power comes with great responsibility. Superhero (in the form of LSL) is right. It's hard to show up for yourself, but everything that's good depends on it.

Father's Day Joy:

1. I am fatherless. This depresses me;

2. Shitty boss was canned. Hope shined through until I found out that I and my favorite co-worker are the next in line to go;

3. I absolutely fucking hate job hunting;

4. I absolutely fucking hate crazy work environments;

5. I will absolutely find a way to work in a place that is not toxic;

6. A regular cleaning service is the key to happiness. Thank you, Merry Maids; and finally

7. I'm gonna roll with all this funk and rise above it, 'cuz there ain't no sense in letting the bastards get me down.

Dear Universe and World-Wide Internets:

I have become the laziest human being on the planet. Some days, I don't recognize myself. I have managed to get myself back into the same old, same old lunatic job situation. I have a completely incompetent boss who changes my job description weekly, leaving me to wonder about my own competence. Maybe I suck at this? Maybe it's not the shifting of focus from one moment to the next? Maybe. I. Just. Suck. At. This? Silver lining--at least it's not a conservative shit hole. Short version--at least we have queers.

Thanks for letting me win that magazine prize. Um, could you please send me some writing buddies? Or...something? 'Cuz, ya see, I haven't done shit since then. Barely even blogging. Have created exactly ZERO content for the new website. Don't work out. Don't cook most days. Nada. On the surface, this looks like depression. Inside, it feels like a sci-fi film where I have been frozen in a state of icy identity crisis. Who am I? What do I want? Why can't I make myself do something to get there?

Also, thanks for bringing Tiny back into the fold. She speaks truth like no one I have ever met. What a gift. Latest pearl of wisdom: You need to make up your mind and get in the relationship. You'll drive yourself nuts with that shit. Just get over it and make the commitment. Right.

I suppose that could cover everything. Just get over it and make the commitment. Because right now, I feel like a walking ghost. Tethered to nothing and no one. Aimless.

Yours truly,
Lunatic