Talk Talk

I've had the oddest weekend; I have a jillion work projects, all with screaming deadlines screaming at me, a sinus infection due to hay fever, and a general sense of laziness. I haven't had a day off in about two months, and I have the usual messes to sort out, trips to tailor, out to buy guinea pig feed, and all that jazz. I won't even mention what five minutes of practice on my ukelele did to my manicure.  So rather than sitting down and doing MY work, I ended up taking two trips out of the way which ate up a lot of my precious precious time, and I don't regret either.

Trip one, to introduce a colleague to a producer over at a television station to drum up some work or some contacts. Afterwards,  long talk over beer and pizza. While I usually confide in my friend Teri, who is the coolest missionary on the planet, I tend not to listen much. And yet, I listened to what this person had to say, made some sharp comments, and hoped in the end that I was insightful, rather than shrewish. As for tonight--I should have worked on a project due Thursday (two are due Thursday, actually) but I ended up babysitting someone's mother from out of town while he went off on a hot date. As this is a friend (he of the "You're too big!" bitch girlfriend) it seemed only fitting to take care of his Mum while he went out on town. Little did I know it would turn into eight solid hours of listening to this woman discourse on everything from forgiveness to her sister's five pound tumor that popped right down into her vagina. Interestingly enough, while she was hip enough to say "vagina" she referred repeatedly to "cancer of the back door." I am not suggesting that either was boring or dull or that I took delight in their pain. Friday Night Colleague was a study in how different two lives can be and I was glad to listen. Saturday, a lesson on letting go and not being bitter.

Perhaps we don't all really need counseling, as I stated to Colleague One on Friday. Maybe we just need a healthy dose of forgiveness, and the strength to move on. Does it take more strength to cling to the edge of the pool, or to cast yourself into the water and move straight and confident through the deep end? I've been in this relationship where I'm clinging to the edge and now I'm thinking, why put this  much energy into maintaining the status quo? I was drowning in his eyes: why not just let go and swim past the pain and into whatever and wherever the current leads me? Or better yet, strike a path towards something strong and straight and true, instead of clinging to the crumbling edge of the crap I already know. So there you are: I'm getting deep again, but knowing me, will be back to writing about crisps and ice cream and blow jobs again tomorrow. As colleague number one said, "First you write about sex and evil Chinese women and then there's a recipe for fudge." Well, Friend, that is my life, and you don't have to read unless you want to.