. . . what . . . to . . . do . . . what to do . . . to do, what? . . .

Dog and house sitting adventures; latest gig, day four.And more about TEEN WOLF, how no one seems to notice I have disappeared (although that actually happened about 20 years ago, didn’t it?) the Algonquin suicide plan and . . .

This morning has begun with a vomit, but, that’s okay. The “visiting” dog – who is staying here as a guest with his two cousins who live here all the time – is having adjustment issues. He should. He needs to adjust. He is a beagle who eats FAR too much and doesn’t listen to commands. I consider myself to be re-hab. I’m controlling his diet and his treats and trying to gently, lovingly explain why it is essential to his health (and mine) for him to sit and stay and come when I request it.


Rudy; the over-eating beagle.

That’s Rudy, who almost killed me when we were out walking and he scented something he wished to hunt in the woods and pulled me with such vigor he almost tore my arm from the socket. He did not – would not – stop – and I had to do this ridiculous looking tug of war thing to get him back into the house. No treat for you. I considered giving myself a shot of tequila, but I am in such a dark mood, I don’t think that alcohol right now would be a good idea.

On the up side: Rudy pointed out another little friend to me: this turtle.


Our turtle friend.

Rudy was interested, until the head disappeared. Sensible. And when I suggested with voice and gentle tug we leave turtle alone, Rudy complied. We may be getting somewhere!

Well, who am I kidding? I’m getting nowhere. Which makes sense as I have no idea where it is I want to get. I spend my days caring for the dogs, petting and playing and talking; and going to the gym; and reading. I am averaging a book every day or so – which is great – until I run out. Well, I don’t think that will actually HAPPEN – but – I may get to the place where the ones I brought or have loaded on my Kindle are not ones I want. Sometimes, during “reading a book a day” times, I get to the point where I need something “else.”

I need something “else” in life actually. Although, well, frankly, maybe, see, the thing is – I don’t REALLY feel as if I WANT something “else” in life. I am in dysthymic LOW hell right now. Usually “TEEN WOLF” helps me, but last night’s episode was about a hotel which boasted as its claim to fame that it had the most suicides committed there. Hmm…I wonder if the Algonquin has statistics? And FINALLY, its first gay hookup was INTERRUPTED by one of the boys sprouting a second spine. Well, hmmph. What interest have I in two-spined young men? I can’t even manage to grow ONE spine, let alone two. Plus, do I really need to be tortured by seeing so many pretty, young beautiful people falling in and out of bed – and death? No.

Being off Facebook has been fairly easy. Although, now I begin to wonder if deleting what was – mostly – my only connection to activity in the world – was a good idea? I have four hundred friends. One wrote to me to see where I was. Guess my “connection to the world” was even weaker than I ALREADY knew it was.

Funny that. I’ve loved such a lot of people with such vigor and often self-sacrifice – I think, now, that was a bad idea. And as I look back – and try to look forward – I am sorry I gave the best years of my life to too many people who didn’t really – it turns out – give one fuck whether or not I was ever happy or getting what would feed my soul.

A therapist of mine told me I should be angry, but, to what end? It’s too late now. And we make our own realities. Turns out, while I was fairly gifted at helping others make good realities for them – I sucked at making my own. Well then, fuck me. And, good day.

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