Distractions

I am distracted at work today. I have been distracted for two days.

Or rather, I have had a hard time focusing on the things I need to do and doing them. I suppose that's the problem with working well under pressure and with threat of deadlines. Even deadlines a week away don't scare me.

My brother seemed to think this procrastination was a New Orleans thing, while I have always thought it was a family thing. He mentioned offhand that he was getting better about it after moving to California.

If I have to move to Los Angeles to get better at it, I'm not interested.


I am avoiding the conversation I am supposed to have with best friend J- who has been frustrating and angering and upsetting me of late. I have avoided it since he came back from his extended tour of the Cape. I have avoided him, really. I thought some time away would help. Instead I got mad at him for offering me a cookie the other day.

Let me be clear: I wasn't angry about the cookie. I was angry that he was telling me to do something other than what I had just told him I wanted to and Was Going To Do. I just wanted to shout: Stop telling me what to do! Stop telling me the things I want to do suck! Stop telling me all the things I'm doing wrong! Stop telling me the people I like are stupid! And MOST of all, stop telling me that the real problem is that I'm Not Nice to myself, and that I need to get a thicker skin, and you're just looking out for my best interests.

Because what you're doing THERE is telling me it's my fault I'm getting upset. Which is just shitty.

And ALL of it might be true, but damnit, with friends like that who needs enemies?


And why is a less-attractive, vaguely annoying girl I met only in passing but just saw on facebook married? And why am I not?

And why can't I just meet someone to crush on for a while because it would sure help?

And when will I stop telling myself to stop whining?

What I've Been Up To

I sent Gatsby an email with the following pictures (identity blocked to protect the innocents):











The title of the email was "What I've Been Up To." The Bathroom Demo, of course, speaks for itself. The other photo, however...

Harold Pinter once wrote a play called Betrayal. They made it into a movie in the 80s that I've never seen, but I did a lot of work on the play when I was getting my acting training. I will not give the whole thing away, but there is a very pregnant scene in which a man makes a pass at his best friend's wife.

About 3 weeks ago, before all the Gustav nonsense, and in the midst of some other craziness, I kissed one of my closest friend's husband. While she and the baby were asleep in the next room. Drunk though I was, I wouldn't have had to be drunk. He neither, from what I gather from other conversations and g-chats and whatnot. His wife has even referred to me as his "Second Spouse." She has one too.

And I let it go that far, and I let him kiss me and we kissed again. And it was great. That's the horrible thing. I have "borrowed" him and their daughter at least twice, and it's nice to live vicariously through someone else. It's nice to have a husband and baby and dog and house and life, if only for one night.

But before I could spiral downward into a self-centered blaze of shame, Little Baby got sick and went to the hospital. Thank heavens I'm not superstitious, so I didn't get the idea in my head that me kissing her father had made my little darling sick. But the thought did, obviously, cross my mind.

So then the hurrication, and my Second Spouse makes out with one of his wife's co-workers. She sweet, but young and oh so slightly awkward. After some prodding, and obvious admission, My Friend gets it out of him. And he feels guilty and so she in turn tells him she has kissed Her own Second Spouse AND her High School Ex-Boyfriend. And yet Husband doesn't mention me to her? No need to, I don't think. But all the same...

Drunk though I was, I went home that night and emailed him: "I cannot be alone with you until I have met someone else." I know part of it is having the attention and attraction of someone I find attractive. And it's also being able to live a fantasy in real life, and in a semi-safe place.

And that's the rub, I think. SS is safe - a way to try out all the things I want without having to commit to them and give anything up. Like my freedom.

But I would be lying if I didn't think sometimes that he and I are better practically suited and we both have acknowledged that, tacitly. Is it just my own need to be better than...? Do I really think I could do a better job than she is doing? Not really the way I want to be thinking about my friends. She is, after all, one of my closest friends. Right?

Post-Disaster Disaster

I forgot so many things about this.

Today, I am coming to terms with the post-evacuation depression. I need to remind myself this was not an actual vacation. I'm tired. I've come back home to a house that is a total disaster, even if it wasn't hit directly by our latest natural disaster.

After being relatively high on the anxiety of hurrication - what will happen, how long do I have to be gone, what will be there when I get back? - I'm back at home. And I'm so sad today. I can't explain what it is exactly, except again the general pointlessness of existence that comes.

Nowhere else is like New Orleans. Partially because this is my home. I have a home here, and friends, and a network and a Life. But also because nowhere else is like New Orleans. The people, the smells, the food, the sound, the music of life. And yet... this is part of New Orleans. Evacuation. Underlying dread that The Big One will come and level the whole place.

It's like loving someone who's in remission from brain cancer.

And it is Much Harder to do this alone. And I feel completely alone nowadays, and lack my usually energy to force myself to reach out. What would I say? Who would understand? All my friends have someone. Except J-, perhaps, but he's no help in times of stress.

I guess sitting on the sofa, drinking an Abita, and watching the Saints is about as good as I can do.