Getting Over the Hump

Everyday Adventures

Today was /not/ the gentle slide into the second part of the week. Oh no, my friend, not by a long shot.

First there was introspection. This wasn’t bad, it just led to overtaxing the brain way too early and a smidge of crankiness about mid-morning. Mostly having to do with the altruism of art, and whether art can really fulfill its destiny if it’s not shared. Even the most obscure piece of art is the artist trying to convey something. If no one sees it, it’s essentially the same as a tree falling in an empty forest. Does it make a sound? Does it serve it’s purpose? Are any artists truly altruistic, doing art solely for their own eyes and fulfilling art’s mission? I told you it was introspective. Might still get a good op-ed sort of piece out of it, if I can corral the thoughts together.

Then there was a bit of a freak-out mid-afternoon. Granted, existential crises are generally not a good thing, this one wasn’t really bad, it just harbinged a moment of clarity that I’m not quite fond of. I’m not panicking or taking drastic measures of any sort, it was just one of those ‘Oh. Hell.’ moments. Basically, if you’re only as good as your last [insert benchmark here], what do my most recent (and recent is oh-so-relative) relationships say about me? And by this I mean long-term (though that’s a relative concept as well). MrSoCal was certainly meaningful, but it was brief, so I have a hard time considering it my ‘last great love’ (no offense, if you’re reading this, MrSoCal, but if you really think about it I think you’ll agree). So that leaves the debacle that fell between the last divorce and MrSoCal which has been over almost a year now. I /really/ don’t want to be identified by that mess, so what’s a girl to do?

Let me reiterate: I am not panicking. Nor am I about to delve into online dating again (ugh, been there, done that about 8 years ago and that’s really all there is to say about that). Nor, yet, am I evaluating every single man I know as a possible paramour. No. Do not take this as Scraps is desparate. I really do appreciate the finer points of solitude and being my own person and independent. The wonder that maybe I’ve used up my ‘chances,’ romantically speaking, is not fear inducing (because, really, I think I’ve had at least my share and maybe another person’s as well) but is met with immediate acceptance. Unfortunate, but c’est la vie.

And palmie and I discussed it, as we’re prone to do, and she opined that what I look for in general (mutual respect, understanding, honest communication, and non-stifling companionship while retaining both parties independence) is not, if fact, hard to find… it’s freaking impossible. I’m inclined to agree. Of course, then we deviated into discussing the merits of vulgar humor within 14 messages and decided that we deserved medals for that sort of segue.

But wait, there’s more.

Because these things happen in threes, of course I would get an email regarding some changes to my current writing agreement that would send me into a momentary tizzy just as I was girding my brain for some code-hacking of the Oldenfeld site. Of course, it was due. I managed to compose a coherent email detailing my main concerns, received some clarifications, and we were able to reach a compromise that everyone is good with. Whew! Still, for a minute things seemed rather pear-shaped.

I got no research done tonight, but I did get content updates done. There are more which I’ll try to fit around the meeting tomorrow night and chip away at things throughout the weekend. I also need to solidify a writing schedule for this month, my workout schedule, and spend some more time on Random Acts… before the weekend is out. It seems like a lot, but the benefit is that I have absolutely no other plans, so it’s doable. I think that’s my theme for this evening: it’s doable!

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