My writing has been sporadic and sparse. It has also been almost non existent after a negative review by a friend, to descriptive and too autobiographical. It was a story and I wanted to tell it to someone but in the end the story would have been a bad story, I know this now, and it is good to hear the criticism. But I have not been writing much since then.
In my last post I said that I was over the person who had fucked me so up and this might not be so true. My history says that this is false: I am the one that spent eight years pining over someone who never loved me. So when I heard from a friend that MPTR's current was plotting to leave her with their daughter, but only if he can get full custody, I stepped in to intercede as much as I could do. And did I reawaken fantasies where I still love her, yes I did. But I tell myself that it won't happen.
To top it all off I have hit another desperately horrible horny stage. Which depresses me more than anything. Horny but knowing that sex without love is utterly unforfilling. I want sex anyways, but there is nothing available in this town. In the city I can pay for it, but then it is exactly like giving away my money and getting nothing in return. Thus we are back to MPTR.
Actually, I am back visiting friends in the Big Smoke, so I am in a place to see everything that I want in all ways, but I don't think I will. My friends took me with their children to African Lion Safari. I was surrounded by many couples with many children living my dream. And the one thought that kept entering my mind was, 'I wonder if I will by chance run into India here.'. India for a refresher was the woman I pined away eight years of my life for because of one night that would not have happened if she had not been turned down by her first choice for the evening, eighteen years ago. Does that tell you something?
I want to write. I have a couple or so novels planned out in my head, one fantasy, one SciFi and one mystery novel where I draw upon all the horrible experiences at my current workplace to make a comic murder mystery. I hope to make enough money so that I can get sued for making fun of living people. The forward would say any resemblance of characters to people living or dead from this book should be a good reason to change how you are doing things or to crawl under a rock and not draw attention to yourself. I also am secretly hoping that I get skin cancer and die soon. The Internet says the skin damage that I currently have is NOT cancer and I was not in the slightest bit relieved. I am not sad, I am just in a really long space of time where there has been no happiness.
One good thing in my life is that I have hooked up with a new local group of cyclists and I have been going for long rides with them. I want to go places, I want to do things with them. I want to keep sex out of it entirely. Currently I keep sex out of yoga, massages and now bicycling. Which is to say I am not looking for potential partners or opportunities, not that there are any in Smallville.
My co-worker has found religion. Before she was a god believing spiritualist, but now she has fallen in with the local branch of Cults'R'Us and after a brief conversation where she started it by asking what I believe in and ended with her sulking and saying that when I die I will burn in hell, just for saying I was an atheist, that by the way was all I said. I like this girl and I was not ready to crush her with the massive weight of my belief and convictions. I did not see why I had to. I also realized that if I did, I would never talk to her again and that she would never invite me to go swimming again. And she looks pretty good in a bikini, not that I think she will do that anyway now; she seems to have swallowed the cults views hook, line and sinker. Too bad, I never swim alone and it was a lot of fun swimming with her. She has to realize that actions speak louder than words and judge me by who I am, not what she was told I should believe in.
I still want to die, but not enough to cross the median and into oncoming traffic. Skin cancer sounds appropriately painful and singular way to go.
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