This stupid cycle of saving and being saved.

Save me Doctor/mom/teacher/lover/friend.  An impossibility.  Obviously.

It's your birthday tomorrow.  I don't know if you're alive (still).  Almost afraid to rip through everything I own looking for your phone number.  Address.  I accidentally (?) threw those things away a year ago.  I still look sometimes.

Everything I regret, I think.

Every time someone asks me to be sad, even though things have been worse.  Even though people have died.  Worse (I suppose) things have happened.  Every time: I think of you.  I'm still in your living room in Mississippi.  Scared and bored.  Running.  I was running then.  Still running.  Haven't gotten anywhere yet.

But I can't fix anything.  Can't change anything.  Even if I went back tomorrow, tonight.  I couldn't change a thing.

It's a regret and a trap.  It's marrow and I bet it'll outlast everything else in my life.

I don't really desire.  I just feel the absence of.

A vacuum, vast space in my heart.  Doesn't mean things don't happen in this really fucking long meantime.

We're so so so used to loss.

Anyway.  Hi, Tyler.  If you're reading this.

Happy 28.

I love you, man.

...the pursuit of knowledge.  Why do you love what you love?  That is important.

maybe black mesa

...and sometimes the lovely things that happen on days that long, long, long are like little apologies to get you through.

Usually they're interactions with people.  Sometimes they're songs on the radio.  Or glimpses in the distance. Or an obscenely pretty sunset.  Or little hits of achievement.  Not perfect, still trying.  Still getting somewhere.

• The kids are debating Star Wars.  They've by now almost all discovered Star Wars, The Avengers and Pokemon.  This leads to some pretty interesting discussions.  And me chiming in a lot to correct misinformation.  Pronunciation of Leia.  No, Leia's middle name is not Leah.  Darth Vader is Anakin Skywalker.  [explosive sound; mind blown] Maybe I should go watch Star Wars now.  Hm.  I don't know as much about Pokemon or The Avengers, but I do know Iron Man's real name is Tony Stark.  You're welcome, Q.
• Artists being super-nice and responsible.  There's a stereotype...perhaps you're familiar with it, perhaps not...that artists are irresponsible, perpetually late and generally loaf-abouts.  If you've ever experienced artists like that (and I have) you have my sympathy.  I've been running around collecting art to donate to my dance company's silent auction and I'm happy to report that the three I've talked to have been absolutely  responsible, nice and apologetic when appropriate.  Anchorage artz reprezent.
• Glimpse of my Code Angel.  Always nice, always weird.  Code Angels are...crushes, basically.  Yup. Crushes.  Just a slightly cooler name for it.
• Getting to talk briefly with people who should probably be my friends.  Would be my friends if I and they had more time and weren't so introverted.  Although I suspect to think that the secret to a successful friendship is...distance.
• Excellent yoga class.  Just breathe and sweat and...mostly breathe.  Breathing's the hardest part, you know?  Also, Kim is my favorite pagan foul-mouthed female Christopher Walken yogi ever.
• Being able to lose a pound a week, despite everything.  Thanks, body.  I know you're tired right now.

e.scape v.elocity

So I was sitting on the couch reading...things.  This one blog.  This one book.  In my self-mandated downtime (it's a thing) when I remembered I could be blogging.  So I am!  Hello.

Thus far January has not been my amigo, buddy, compatriot or friend-with-potential.  No, no.  January has been kind of a sly needling bint at a party who insists on using her passive aggressiveness to reduce me to a crumple ball of wallfloweriness.

Maybe that can become a series of some sort.  January: A Bint Who.  Like a cross between Doctor Who, The Cat Who and Downton Abbey.  Or (better!) Upstairs, Downstairs.  Truck things keep happening.  Gypsy is having a bad time of it.  Things keep coming up.  Which is understandable, given that it's original everything-but-the-clutch since 1992.  Need to do some maths.  Car payment or money into this one?  ...probably the latter plus a bike for the summer months.  All three of them.  Assuming I have the same job by summer.  Which I hope to.

Have I ever told you how much I love my job?  Someday.

Things have been generally otherwise slidey and stressful.  Warm weather in Anchorage in mid-winter is no bueno.  I know, I know.  One would think it would be bueno, but no.  Not much of anybody gustar that sh*t.

Deep in rehearsals for the January show.  This genuinely is like having a second job.  Plus sometimes I still model and study and whatnot.

It's nice to be working towards something that I know will ultimately be very rewarding and badass with people I enjoy and respect...but I will so love having a consistent sleep pattern again someday, too!

...also, needing to plan for things months away when I can barely think beyond the end of this month is a bit grownuppy and makes me feel like flipping my hair all emo-like, rolling my eyes, slamming the door and listening to Amanda Palmer really loud.  Maybe while sleeping in past the start of class.  After staying up until 4 AM.

Overreaction is key!

'til next time.

shot glam rock but did not shoot the deputy

Obligatory part about new years, new resolutions and needing to accomplish certain things within a certain time-frame in order to feel like a productive person.  This blog is by way of addressing what can best be described as a psychological nutritional deficiency.  It is what it is.

I'm sure we can all relate.  All of us but the sociopaths, that is.

To my surprise, this profile automatically linked up with my Google+ profile.  Which means that if there's anything, dear reader, you wish to know about me you could probably just investigate the Google+-ness and have all your burning questions well answered.

Return to this post once you've a grip on who I is.  Got it?  All right.

Sunday List

• Waking up early enough to do this before rehearsal.
• Must work on kitchen mural of awesomeness.
• Must finish laundry and be dazzled by the strange and wonderful feeling of all the things being clean.
• Pre-rehearsal coffee.  Never-ever happens.  Except, today, it might....
• Rehearsal: immersing myself in sort-of fairytales and hoping that my PMS results in no bloodshed or alienation.
• Forrest yoga.
• Dull domestic pursuits which I suck at and so need practice.
• Wine and merriment and Skyrim, probably.  I have to kill a Draugr Warlord.  It's not going well so far.

It's getting difficult to talk, be hear and interact well with people.  Maybe because the script in my head is wearing out.  Maybe because I don't practice the script anymore.  Haven't really for years.  There was a time I could get the head-stuff, the script, the dissection of everyday minutiae out of my system via a significant other.  That's not possible anymore and hasn't been for some time.

I'll bet it's better to get it taken care of like this.  Friends get tired of hearing it.  People don't really want to deal with the messy mechanics of another person without a little distance.  Distance like miles.  Distance like words.  Distance like years or generations.

Happy Sunday.