Loose ends.
Now that the new year has kicked off and everyone has arrived back from their holidays, my time at work has slowly started to get a little more busy as the days lean forward into the calendar. Luckily I'm not so overwhelmed that I'm on the verge of going absolutely mad and holding reports and FedEx packages hostage while standing up on my desk and requesting for some time off.
The transition seems to be going nice and smooth, and I'm able to keep up with everything that is work-related. That's the good news.
The not so great news is that I'm letting other things in my life slip off to the side while I focus on whatever happens to be right in front of my face at that particular moment.
I forget about e-mails I need to respond to, phone calls that need to be made, words that must be shared, arguments that need to be finished, and applications that have to be filled out. It's not that I have given up on anything I'm just not able to gather any kind of motivation whatsoever. It's so much easier to step back and shrug my shoulders.
Eh, I'll get to it tomorrow.
I don't know what happened or why I've decided to take this route but it's bugging the shit out of me. It's like I've stepped into a giant hole of quick sand and instead of trying to figure a way out, I just stand there and think, "the less I move and try to do anything, the longer I'll be able to keep my head above the sand. It'll all be okay."
The method doesn't work. Eventually your head will be covered with sand and you'll suffocate. I should have been looking around for a rope or somebody who could toss me something and pull me out.
This past weekend I got into an argument with Momma. It was one of our classic arguments that we tend to have every couple of months. I'm not sure why, we just do and it has even got to the point where I can guess correctly what she's going to say to me.
I'm sure others have had a similar conversation with one or both of their parents:
Parent: "You're not going anywhere, you're not saving money, you don't appear to be doing anything to change this fact, and you'll whind up living here for the rest of your life."
Kid: "You're always so negative about everything. Why do I even try and explain things to you? All you're going to tell me is how much of a fuck up I am and that I'm going about everything in the wrong way."
Parent: "I only tell you these things so you can prepare yourself for what's ahead of you."
Kid: "When are you going to understand that I need to learn things for myself? It doesn't matter what you tell me, if I don't do it myself, fall on my face, and get back up on my own two feet, I'll never learn."
Parent: "Well when are you going to understand that you're being extremely irresponsible and need to learn how to own up to your mistakes."
...and blah, blah, blah, blah...
It never fucking ends.
So now we're not talking to each other. Our townhouse has become an emotional battlefield where we try to avoid running into one another and exchange quick glances. We're both so stubborn that we refuse to suck up our pride and apologize to one another, and for some unknown reason would prefer to have awkward, silent moments.
It gets to be too much.
I've also managed to royally fuck things up with, Ash.
Yes, I'm telling you this with the great potential that he may be reading, but that's okay. I just need to get it out of me.
A couple of weeks back I fucked up my No Smoking Plan and lost my bet that I had going with him. For a while there was lots of drama, drama, drama. The kind of drama that I hate and yet still fueled with my lack of communication.
I'll spare you all of the day-to-day details of what was streaming through my brain, but needless to say it wasn't pleasant and drove me crazy. I eagerly flung myself into the Here and the Now. Lauren and I would run off and keep ourselves entertained while I forgot that I have problems that need to be dealt with. Instead we floated through our days while laughing at our inside jokes and pretending that everything was fabulous.
We're all fabulous. Everything is fabulous. The more I think that it's fabulous, the more real it'll become.
So we are in an uncertain in-between moment. I'm not sure what to do, what to say, how to act, what to think, how to feel, and I constantly question myself.
And I still smoke.
On top of all of that fun emotional stuff, I've got the rest of my financial aid papers to fill out. Oh, I fucking hate that goddamned application. Everytime I pull it out and start filling in the blanks I can hear it's laughter. The fucking paper mocks me.
My untied laces. Sooner or later I'm going to trip and fall because of them.