Unsent letter

I'm at home, still in pyjamas, still haven't showered since Friday morning, haven't left the house at all except to go through the drive-through at Tom's Diner to get a Tominator burger and small order of onion rings (used restraint not to get the Medium, which could feed a small village, but it would have been better to get none at all).

Coma Weekend proceeded as planned but as a result I got nothing done and am feeling bad about myself. And somewhat terrified about my parents coming to visit on the weekend, although it is usually fun to see them.

I was just watching a show on the TLC channel that was about hoarders, people who keep so much junk in their house that all they have is a small path in each room. There were some psychologists working with the people, and usually the problem traced back to some horrible thing in their childhood, and also it does tend to run in families. I was lying on the couch watching this, and if I squinted I could barely tell the difference between the cluttered living room being depicted on the TV and the piles of papers to file and boxes and pictures I've never hung on the walls that were sitting around outside the TV in my own analog living room. I know the boxes drive my Mom crazy. If she tries to "help", there may be tears. It's all part of the dilemma of settling, I think - do I really even want to live in this town? Or this country? (Was pining for Sydney, my old job and the Saturday dialectics, all day today). Or do I really want to live here, but then in a more permanent place, and large enough for all the dumb guitar stuff?

What with all the change at work, there were several people who weren't really friends, not really close friends, but felt like my closest connections there, and they've moved away. My old department has been shattered and we're now reporting up through four different bosses, and I'm sort of glad because there are some things I don't want to be involved with any more like arguing with IT Services about hosting arrangements, but then I'm not part of any team any more. I went home sick on Wednesday last week and didn't even know who to email to tell about it. If I just flat stopped coming in it would probably take people weeks to notice. So that's kind of fucking depressing.

My Mom and sister and I were talking about a genetic aversion to making social plans with people, that comes down from my father's side. Problem is, while my Dad and sister and usually perfectly happy to sit inside their safe cave doing their own thing without interruption, and thrive on just the amount of social engagement that they have, I sadly got extroversion from my Mom's side, so I really miss being in the company of people, although I don't have any skills to go out and meet any of them or get them to play with me.

I miss that every second Saturday I knew there would be a group to go get at least one beer with, in the evening, somewhere walking distance from the Botanic Gardens. Things went bad with a few of the regulars so I'm not sure I would like hanging out with all of them now, but I miss being part of a gang - "Where are we all going now?" Even if the same people weren't free every time, there was always some whacky companionship. I haven't found my tribe here yet. I sat inside all weekend instead of going out to find them. Bah.

I've been a long time single, too. Do I even want a partner any more? Does it squash one's independence too much? But a sly affair, I'll tell you, one of those no strings attached but every Tuesday over lunch kinds of things, that idea has a lot of appeal. Apart from advertising on Craig's List, how does one arrange that kind of thing? Or maybe I don't want that at all because it would just make me feel lonelier. Even the perfect partner and a committed long-term romance and moving in and blending lives together and buying a dog and the whole shebang might just make me feel lonelier just at the moment, because sometimes when you get closer, you just realize how fundamentally we are all separate. I want to meld with someone else and feel whole. You can't. Tough luck. Being human sucks. Go read your Sartre again, bitch, and maybe you'll stop forgetting this and stop wanting what you can't have.

I understand, from reading various news sources, that exercise, sunshine, vegetables and volunteer work are the best cures for this malaise I'm feeling.

There was one period in my life when I went out with another Gemini. And I got to experience first-hand that there are two Geminis - the "out" Gemini, who is the life of the party, a charming raconteur, flashing eyes and quick wit and everyone wants to be near them to listen and to bask in their mercurial sparkle. And then there is "home" Gemini, grumpiest creature alive, who sits in a lump and frowns and shoots down all suggestions from helpful loved ones and although they are zero fun to be around, shout and holler for attention if anyone tries to sneak away to more pleasant environments. This Coma Weekend Ellen is definitely "home Gemini". Grump grump grump. Poor poor me. Nothing will ever be good again, and no one cares. Bah.

I amuse myself now. I need to go listen to that John Lee Hooker clip again and realize that I already have everything I need. Every day is a fucking gift. Jesus loves me, this I know. Shantih, shantih, shantih.