oh, issues.

So I decided to try and teach yoga at this gym that’s about four feet away from my house, and even in the interview there was a fierce little flurry of bitchiness between the interviewer and me. (She was kind of rude asking a question so I was kind of rude answering it.) And then I went to one of their yoga classes last week and it was quite bad, taught inexpertly in near-darkness with some very injurious advice, the instructor really minimally trained in yoga (or possibly trained a very long time ago). I made the mistake of saying the class was “very interesting” in an e-mail to the interviewer, and she wrote back and asked, with many question marks, what that was supposed to mean. I did my best, saying that in the dark my balance sucked (which was true) and that I wasn’t used to classes as large as that one (also true). I couldn’t think of a way to say that gym yoga and studio yoga are very different that wouldn’t lead to more questions so I left it at that. I’m wondering if maybe it’d be better if I didn’t teach there after all, because I don’t seem to mesh well with my boss-to-be and I’m not sure my style of yoga (i.e. the well-trained style) is going to fit in there. But I’m clutching at just about anything I can find because of our situation as it stands. I’m supposed to teach an audition class there on Wednesday, and I’m not really that apprehensive about it, because if they don’t like me it means I don’t have to deal with these people, and if they do like me, well, skippy. But the interviewer changed her mind about when I was supposed to start teaching regularly; it was going to be this Thursday, but then now it’s three weeks away. Well, fine. Not very encouraging, but fine.

BF is playing Gears of War 3, and gawd, the sound effects from that game. Rat-a-tat-SPLATTY-roar-SQUISH. Noise-cancelers and “Sail” on repeat is what I’m doing now.

I don’t know how to help him with the adjustment he’s had to make, nor do I know what to suggest to him about what he should do with himself in the upcoming days? weeks? however long?. Should I not suggest anything and just let him be? Is that the right thing so I’m not nagging? Is that the wrong thing to do with his personality? What would I suggest if I decided it was the right thing to do, to go on and suggest? I don’t know what he wants to do with himself. Maybe I could teach him to knit.

I’m frustrated about the end of therapy. Yeah, that’s, like, September’s news, but I’m still frustrated about it. Did I fuck it up somehow? Did I miss an opportunity to get fixed, or was it really as meaningless as it seemed when I decided to give it up?

I’m depressed because I can’t write. That’s inaccurate. I’m depressed because I have not been writing. I’ve had the Word document open for about two weeks on my desktop, sitting there in 110% zoom the way I wrote the lion’s share of the Greenland book, ready to have words added to the end of the last paragraph. The word count wants to grow; this book wants to come out, I can feel it, like a cramp. But I have serious performance anxiety and it is driving me CRAZY not to know whether I wrote the last book well or badly. I feel paralyzed, no idea how to get at the next thing when I don’t know how I did on the last thing. I know it’s not as important to the readers as it is to me, I get it, but it’s pretty hard being on this end, wanting to go out on another limb when I have no idea whether I did “yeah, okay” or “really awesome” or “back to the drawing board with you” with the last climb of the tree.

No, like, NO idea. Really paralyzed. It’s fricking awful, one of the worst feelings I’ve had throughout the writing process during the last five years, as if I’m naked and chained to a wall and I know there’s a way to slip out of these handcuffs and enchant my captors with a no-touch hoochie-coochie, risk-free, so they’ll let me go, but instead I’m just leaning here against cold bricks with my fingers going numb, my brain going dead, losing time and energy by the moment, because I CAN’T REMEMBER WHAT TO DO NEXT.

Bird by bird, right? Bird by bird. God, I’m afraid of it.

“Sorrow” now. Too intense for repeat, but it’s like visiting one of those crazy friends from college. What a good time.

How am I going to ditch the habit of saying “two thousand twelve”? I sound like I’m from three generations ago. I need to remember to say “twenty twelve”. It just seems wrong.

I’m pretty sure my mom lied to me during our conversation yesterday. Like, relentlessly, without any consideration for whether I would know or it would hurt me. Because of the nature of the lie, I kind of can’t get over it; it’s been tugging at me every twenty minutes since it occurred to me that she was probably lying (which was about 10 minutes after we got off the phone). I don’t know what to do with this information. I’m seriously thinking about confronting her, because it’s going to hurt me for days, and every time I think about confronting her with one of her lies I always think it’s going to go a different way than it goes (I’m continually too optimistic) and I need to just get over it and move on because no way will anything good come out of me calling her up and saying “You just gave me the equivalent of an oral book report from a seventh-grader who hasn’t read the book. Why did you do that? It was stupidly obvious. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, no matter how much it inconvenienced you to admit you did the wrong thing?”

Would it kill you to admit you did the wrong thing?

This video proves to me that I was right all along about Sucker Punch. Even if each progressive video makes me think Beyonce’s kind of gone off the deep end (still, she sure is purty).

Some days I feel like I’ve got things figured out, like I’m living the right way and have learned enough in my twenties to call myself a smart woman. Some days I feel like a big bumbling idiot who can’t even keep herself healthy. Raccoons can keep themselves healthy.

And what is vitamin D supposed to do for you anyway?