Tags
There is the way we would like things to be and there is how life is. We plan, daydream, fantasize or simply dream in our sleep. Then we wake up in the morning or afternoon or even in the evening. We remember those dreams. Sometimes the dreams aren’t nightmares, but when they feature firearms in a display of rebellion, they aren’t exactly the kind of dreams where I wake up with an erection (assuming you are male, females, insert the appropriate physiological response).
I have hit something of a barrier. It is probably no taller or more substantial that that little boundary fence on a cricket pitch, but for me, right now, it’s like the Great Wall of China.
It comes down to this, the difference in how I spend my time doing what I do versus what I want to do. And, of course, hitting the “Reset” button for the change of direction has to be a massive, all at once shift, complete in its totality. This attitude is a prescription for failure.
So I interrupted writing this post to fix J’s lunch. I made more Waldorf chicken salad, sliced some more strawberries, and staged the other components for packing in her lunch kit.
I accomplished something.
I do like writing. I actually like writing erotica. It isn’t quite the same as making love, having sex or fucking. Among those three I think there are distinctions. I’m not up for discussing the differences tonight.
J is upstairs watching those twin brothers, Drew Scott and Jonathon? Scott on HGTV. They are OK, as far as house people go. I am watching the dusk creep in on the railcam scene in Ashland. A train eventually will arrive or pass through.
Hmm, J and I are different. She has to be at work tomorrow at 0430, (0 dark 30). So she’s winding down to go to sleep. I get it.
She plays a mental chess game with herself, around me, wondering what I’m going to do or say and hoping what she does or says won’t upset me. That isn’t exactly setting the stage for spontaneity. I will bring that up. Then again, I have to work on the phrasing, because she doesn’t take criticism well.
“Never go to bed with someone whose problems are worse than your own.”- Nelson Algren.
Why is she so worried about upsetting you? Is it really worth all this just to avoid an awkward conversation or two? How do you know she doesn’t want the same thing you want? Or even parts of what you want? I mean, its entirely possible that i’m totally wrong. i don’t have a feel for her, having never met her. But–you deserve more than longing.
Yes. Driving home from dinner, I said, “We need to build intimacy. Each night, she goes to her world of Lifetime TV & The Hallmark Channel. I watch my YouTube stuff. Exhausted, she is asleep. Eventually. But I put out my need for her. And Now, I’m not stopping.
More later.
I’m wildly applauding you!! ❤️🎉🎉
I told her I needed her loving. Things are coming out
Good for you! Fantastic!! You deserve to be heard and known. I see you. Keep going!
Thanks
I went upstairs and we watched a Masterpiece Theatre series on DVD, Indian Summers. She needs to sleep,. I left her up there. I am wide awake, sorting through the madness of the day, the agony of unrequited love, the external tragedies and melodrama. A man was swimming laps at my Y Friday morning when he suffered a heart attack. He died enroute to hospital. I kind of lost my desire to swim after that, even though I wasn’t there when the incident took place.
I understand, sweet friend. I love love love swimming but hate swimming alone ever since I found my brother near lifeless in our pool and had to pull him out alone. Water is a place we connect with the womb and safety. It makes sense we would be especially sensitive about that. I’m glad he died doing something he loves and he wasn’t alone.
There are lifeguards on duty at all times. So we’re not alone.
Okay then take a break and then go back to what you love ❤️
I will. Saw his obituary this morning. Turns out I knew the guy. He was an MS patient with some other health problems. Sad.
I’d be upset for people like you being upset, but personally? If I die swimming and nothing is chasing me, I’m gonna count that as a good death.
I feel the same way. The guy was a successful attorney and collegiate baseball player, before his disability. I’m certain he died doing what he loved doing.
He was also in the one place where he was in far less pain and had the most freedom. I know because I have fibromyalgia and we share a lot of symptoms. He also passed in a place where he knew people would remember him and pray for his soul. That matters. That is a good death. I just saw a horrendous one.
Oh yes. I agree.
I think I’m going back to bed. I slept for a reasonably long period, but now it’s time to go back up. Jade, thanks. You are one of my resources for sanity in this world. Love you.
Love you too, sweet man. Rest well