Nineteen hours. It took four anxiety tablets to do it and mine have three day half-lives, so I’m a bit under it today but managing to be somewhat productive. Cleaning, applying for jobs. I was going to go for a walk, to get a break from the screen as much as anything. I’m very slowly editing “Working Under Mistress Lea” if you want to give that another look. I was going to get some coffee and work on the “Something Tamer” if it’s not too painful/anxiety producing/whatever. I wish I had more to say. I looked into the open source stuff for a few hours tonight. I picked my project but I need to know Python, so I’m going to order a book and try to hold myself to a dead minimum of two hours a day with it. I was also considering learning how to cook just a little bit. Everything I can think to do that’d be good for me is just an extension of something that’s already there. Cooking two meals a week would be like opening a new compartment in life.
Elaine’s out of the psycho ward. I only spoke to her to see if she was getting rid of the guy who turned her onto crack. She’s giving him four days to leave, four days that she’s spending in her bedroom with her light out so he doesn’t tap at the door. One of the joys of being a woman, I guess. I recognize the destructive force she’d be. Her age and her personality disorder. I think I said this in one of my videos. She’d be someone to build a life with, and a large part of that would be building a career. Dr Lee, I’m forty-seven. I missed out on building a career and, without naming them, it’s low on the top ten list of things I want to make up for. I don’t want to get in at 7am, leave at 6pm, and spend 8pm till 10pm in a recliner, leisurely getting ready for the next day. There aren’t enough years left for the money that would come with that responsibility to be worthwhile. Elaine dreams of the best parties, the finest restaurants, lavish events spawned by God knows what. I want a crescent shaped sofa far too tasteless for anyone to make to migrate about with you on, a sheepskin rug of unlikely dimensions, a dressing chair. You know, the important stuff. The gender stuff? Depends on what you want when you see what you like of how far it’s gone so far. To avoid feeling pinched, I need about $2000/month for the necessities of life that bleed you dry at an average person’s income. Any income after that is effectively spending money. If you don’t want me to feel that I’m going without, I would vastly prefer any other money to be spent on something you want me to have. My mother manipulated me with money. You likely went through the same thing in your marriage. Better to be manipulated with money than not to have money, but it seriously damages relationships.
I’m sorry that I’m distant. It’s what I brought up before. One or two more days. Please believe that I love you. I don’t want to believe that I won’t have you. It makes me feel that the woman I love more than anything in this world never spoke a true word. I wish I knew what I am to you. That floats through my mind so, so much.
I’m going to cut myself off. I work in a sweet, blathering entry when the numbness fades.
