Dreaming through the noise.

So, it's been about a year since I wrote anything here.

Don't worry. You haven't missed much.

My previous employer finally crashed. I received a small check last September. No word on work until December. By that time, I'd filed for unemployment and was then, officially, off the payroll. I completed a job for them (as a contractor) from about mid December to March. It's still not fully completed/paid up, so I don't have a check for that final bit of work yet. (I get in contact with the PM every couple of weeks.)

I worked another contract job for a former coworker from May to July. I'm really hoping he might be able to get me on full time come the new year, but I'm not counting my chickens. 

To top it off, the Knoxville job market fucking sucks for my industry. In the event that there is a job that speaks to me, I'm sure there are twenty other people applying for it. 

I spent this afternoon at a temp agency; I'm hoping for at least some part time work so I can get something coming in. I'm going to drop an e-mail to another agency contact I made back in the spring. And I have a few jobs saved to apply for this week. 

Luckily, Matt's job is good and steady and *knocks on wood* doesn't look like it's going anywhere. 

So, yeah. While I'm good at getting on with things (and Matt's encouraging me not to worry about money), I'm under a constant miasma of stress. I can bury it for the most part, but it's still there. 

So, that is what it is. 

In other news: 

I've gotten into the Supernatural fandom. (What took me so long?) If you're interested in fannish works, you can visit my Tumblr: Ilcuoreardendo-fic

I spent some time down in St. Augustine at the end of July. That was beautiful. I need to live on the coast....

And I'm gearing up for a potential NaNo 2013 participation. I used to have some of you LiveJournalers as writing buddies. I've since changed my name. You can find me here, if you're so inclined: Sangetencre. 


And that's about it. 

I guess I'll see you next year....

Despite the fact that it's Tuesday.

Tomorrow, I "go back to work" after two weeks off. I put the phrase in quotes because, well, I don't actually go anywhere with the whole working-from-home thing. Hell, some days, I'm lucky I make it out of my pajamas. (Maybe I should have made a New Year's resolution regarding getting dressed everyday...)

Regardless, it still drops me into the typical Sunday-mood, lamenting the end of my time off.

I think it's exacerbated this time around since I've been sick since the 24th and spent most of this last week on the couch, drinking tea and Theraflu and trying to avoid coughing fits, so I haven't done anything I thought I might do while having time off.

Hell, I should be honest with myself. I probably wouldn't have gotten much done even if I hadn't felt like a used tissue (ragged and snotty) most of the time. The fact is, I usually am more creatively productive when I have other (mundane, daily) obligations poking at me. (It stems partly from some internal juvenile rebellion I never managed to shake.)


I do this to myself after every scheduled vacation. Lament the end of it, bemoan having to go back to work, console myself with my Furlough Fridays and the slow procession of us gaining new projects (a double edged sword; I'd take the shitloads of work over having no income, of course), which means I have additional time--to myself--to get to the things I didn't get to during my vacation.

So, with that in mind, I'm setting a goal, for this Friday, of making the last few tweaks to an old short story I just had my new writers group critique; I doubt it'll go out this weekend, but it needs to be readied.

Beyond that, I'm going to get back in the groove of scribbling in my impossible things journal, responding to writing prompts over in the blogspot community, and continuing on with drafting vignettes for Dispatches from New Vegas.

I went to bed and to sleep around 10:00.

And what happens?

I pop wide awake at 12:30 and I'm still freaking up...

Attempted to type some NaNo stuff (admittedly, I'm half assing a short story collection with a theme of 'tween places; half assing might even be too generous a term) and found myself more annoyed than usual with the crap!first draft, spurred in part, probably by the frustration of not being able to get back to sleep. (It threw me into one of those "I can't write worth shit" spins, in fact.). So I just let it be.

It's 20 to 4....I'd really like to sleep.

I've been pondering a type of people. You know... The type that you constantly have to get in contact with if you want to talk with them or see them, because phones/internet/etc. only go one way? (Which, eventually, leads to you doing all of the work in order to maintain the relationship.)

I was thinking of it somewhat in relation to this informal group of friends/acquaintances we've been hanging out with, on Sunday mornings, at the coffee shop, for the last three or four years. We've seen them occasionally outside the coffee shop--had dinner a time or two, gone to a couple people's houses for get-togethers--so it's enough of an acquaintanceship to be considered friendship-lite....I suppose.

And I expect that a few of them will probably be upset that we haven't been back by the coffee shop to say goodbye before we move (next Friday/Saturday). Due in large part, of course, to the business of moving and the fact that Sunday is our day to sleep in, right now, since Saturday tends to be for errands and other things.

Anyway, at the thought of them possibly being upset, my mind immediately shot to: Well, you know where to find me. You have me on Facebook. You have my phone number. And you know, generally, where I live. If a goodbye is important enough that you'll be upset if it doesn't happen in person? You can contact me and we can arrange, even, a fifteen minute slot of time between my packing and cleaning.

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt...because, in adulthood? Life is busy. And once you're done with the daily grind (work, errands, cleaning, cooking, etc.) and finding time for yourself, then you try to find time for others. And it doesn't always work. I know that.

Still it takes two people to maintain some kind of relationship. Occasionally the balance is going to shift, making one person do a little more work...and that's o.k. That's fine; that's how relationships flow; it's not always a perfect 50-50. But when that balance is always shifted to one person? It gets a little old.

I suppose that's why I don't really attempt to make long lasting, one-on-one friendships...most of the time. (Which was always kind of hard to do, anyway, being a military brat and moving around so often. I cherish the friendships I've been able to keep, even if they're down to virtual interactions now due to distance.) Invariably, I seem to end up in the role of doing most of the heavy lifting. And I just don't have the will to do that anymore. I'll try--give it a good faith effort--but I don't keep trying; not like I used to. I can't do that to myself.

I suppose, I do and will take the acquaintanceship, as it comes...

But if people want to truly be in my life as friends rather than mere acquaintances?

They'll need to share the effort.

I recently bought Lily Holbrook's Wicked Ways.



And it has been living in my car for the last week. It's absolutely gorgeous. Melodic and haunting. And there's a nostalgic quality to it that I can't really explain.

One of the songs I'm particularly taken with is "Sweet Little Girl," which you can listen to here.

There is evil in these woods
Where she brought you to the edge
Touched your heart and then it bled
Trickling down, down, down

There's a fever in your head
Rising when she calls your name
On your lips, her kiss of death
Takes you down, down, down...



This album is going in my "Soundtracks for Writing" pile.