27 March 2012

Tuesday night, solace and white wine

I did have to go and tell the whole blogosphere that I could shine anywhere, didn't I? What a jackass. Work has been grueling. Defeating. Overwhelming. Today I had to fight the urge to flee the building. I have a stack of paperwork thick enough to provide a comfy cushion for my elbow, thanks to a system upgrade which has rendered me even less computer-adept than I was before. Left work at 5:30 after shoving the pile of un-processed papers in my drawer for the night. Went by the grocery store where I dropped $83 and some change like it was nothing, then drove over to the mall to pick Maddie up and then back to the ball field for one more pickup. But Hunter needed a ride home so I did that, praying my groceries would not be a soggy blob by the time I made it home. I threw a little unhealthy convenience food at the kids and plopped down at the computer with a glass of cold wine and let myself go numb. Numb is how I feel after a day like today. I try to think of a friend of mine, who has a job she hates but somehow never seems to lose sight of herself and keeps her spirit intact and travels out of town on her weekends off and just generally inspires me. What drives her that doesn't drive me? I desperately want to know. I disappoint everyone around me.

Finally, the kids have grown bored of waiting for me to get off the computer and they go put a movie on. I am glad. I just want to be alone after dealing with people all day. Joe is out of town and so Nora will want to sleep with me tonight. I'll be in bed by 9:30. I am a shell.

I have a chapbook of poems being published and I am happy. I feel unworthy but glad. I have written nothing recently. I want to but my mind, it's so tired. How to balance it all? The things I do all day give me things to write about, but they sap me so much that I can't write about them.

And too many uses of the word "I." It makes me nauseous.

But when I am drawing up a joint injection and the milky Kenalong is mingling in the syringe with the Lidocaine and I change the needle out like I've done it all my life and the Asian doctor says something that sounds like "trichantery" and I know she means "trochanteric"- it's like maybe it's all meant to be. Maybe.

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