My mood has been vacillating back and forth a lot over the past week. Things are in flux, but the momentum is good. I think what's happening is that there are a lot of possibilities, a lot of change, and it's putting me in unfamiliar emotional territory. I go up and down and up and down, and after being static for a while I freak out from time to time. Must. Learn. To. Retain. Perspective.
It's good to be back home. The more I do it, the less I love sleeping on couches. It was a hard weekend in San Francisco. After the extensive (and expensive) partying for The Girth, Esq. I didn't really get back on the ball until Tuesday, and the schedule was full and heavy. Not a good time to be off your game.
I also had a purely platonic dinner with an old girlfriend that left me wobbly -- prompting the previous post about a lonesome crisis of meaning... "see how he selectively supplies context, the bastard?" -- and searching for purchase. It was one of those moments where you really really want to do or say something, but you're observing the world through thick bulletproof glass, listening to the muffled sound of yourself prattling on about something else, peripheral, dancing around it, wondering why you can't look this person in the eye.
So I posted that blog entry and emailed my #1 romantic adviser, Julia "Solid Gold Pussy" Henning. Writing helps me process, and Julia came back with some quality perspective. I feel better about the whole thing now, grateful even to have my dumplin' jumpin' for a change, but in that moment I felt positively 17 again. Whooof.
Thankfully the coming dawn and advice and a couple good working days reminded me that, yeah, everything will be ok. My direction is positive. Life is good, tomorrow another day, happy happy joy joy. You know the drill.