I need goals. I want goals. Now. I love punctuation. I swoon over periods, I heart commas. No one ever uses enough of them, you know. I rue the day I ever learned the way of the appositives because I look at my comma peppered posts and wonder if I've gone a little punctuation happy. I just wrote sentences on punctuation and am not backspacing. Can I have punctuation related goals?
Okay, I am very, very lucky. I uprooted my plans to drape my life around someone and now have no intention of going that route. I cannot move to that city, I cannot take that job because even though he'll be thousands of miles away for work until next year I cannot bring myself to walk those streets. It's a big city, I'll inevitably return, I had always wanted to live there, but right this very instant I can't do it. Why am I lucky? I have time and money to float myself over for a long while. Yes, quite the shitty thing to say in precarious economic times and I know how fortunate I am to have options and I relish the option to run. I just want to tear out of town and leave all of the hurt, the pain, the memories in a cloud of dust behind me. I won't. You see, running is what I do best. I am an awesome runner. Before I went and tore ligaments and got banged up I did awesome running of the literal variety. Nowadays I just hop on planes and trains and get the hell out of Dodge City. I do not want to do that. I want to stay and feel it. Not forever, but for at least a few months. I do not want to waste these few months. I want to do things, to tackle projects, to rock it in ways that have yet to be seen. Going down as the wounded woman is quite simply not on the agenda.
I have never been hurt this way. From what I understand the best way to go about things is to look outside yourself. Huh? I'm pretty self absorbed. This will be hard. I intend to head down to the Southern Hemisphere for two months and (literally) ski my ass off. Until then, project time. Rebuilding. Maybe I'll stop listening to Jeff Buckley and Wilco, both of whom (which?) make me kind of want to shoot myself in the mouth. Maybe I'll start to sail again. I have options and am childless, husbandless, obligationless. Well, I have obligations that can quite easily be shirked and I intend to become a master shirker.
So, that's it in a nutshell. Onward and upward. Brushing myself off, picking myself up and making it all better.
Am I permitted to throw myself at these people and beg them to let me lead a discussion? I am willing to grovel and bring snacks. Also, I read between five and nine books a week, even at my very busiest. What? I read in transit, before bed, with astonishing speed. I want to nerd it out.
