blogwriting is for me. The tendency is to spew when the voices are calling and then when things ease up you kinda forget.
But then I guess all creativity is sort of like praying. Sometimes it's easier to get it out when you're not happy, and harder when you are. So maybe the true test of a creative is being able to express the good as well as the bad. Sort of like remembering to pray and say "Thank You" when you're not in a hell.
On the whole, aside from being broke, life is pretty good. I picked up another small job from the Hospital. The cool thing about this particular job is that it's for the department that does community outreach, and since I'm extremely familiar with the community they're out-reaching to, it's an easy fit. And the department likes what I've done. And they're "outreaching" all the time. However, that department takes the longest to pay...
I suppose I'm burying my head in the sand though. Still no child support. And unemployment ends in about a month. I'm going to be in some serious shit, and my happiness could all come to a screeching halt. Foodstamps, here I come. Shit.
But I am truly happiest working freelance. I even made up with my client, cuz essentially, she's got the same temperament as me, with a low tolerance for frustration. The Monster-Brochure-From-Hell has finally gone to print... 10 panels (5 on each side) 11x7 each panel. And 2.5 panels on one side consist of a grid that outlines the times, dates, titles and speakers of God-knows-how-many medical topics like "Dementia" or "Palliative Care in the ICU", followed by 2.5 panels of medical faculty and speakers with credentials like "MD, MPH, FACP" and crap like that. But I think it's fairly organized, and looks good so I'm considering entering it into a design contest.
I dunno. I keep repeating "do what you love and the money will follow" but money seems to be wandering off to the side, taking detours, smelling flowers and not really following me like it should. I need a leash for that bitch.
My courtdate is approaching. It's still filling me with dread but I realize that about 80% of that dread is habit. I have custody. And TF's being an ass. He's not signing off on anything, but he's not saying what he wants. I expect him to be here next week, and I expect for him to take the Sun ALL WEEKEND and as much as I miss my peanutbutter when he's not here, I'm willing to give him up. I know he misses his dad. Which reminds me though... I need to turn my InternetStalker back on so I can see where he goes.
The Sun met with the Law Guardian last Monday. She said absolutely nothing to me... and Lawyer wanted us to meet but I'm betting that's not going to happen. I don't really care, I guess... the LG asked the Sun what was I doing (working from home, he said), whether I talked bad about his father (no), whether his father talked bad about me (no) and if he ever felt pushed and pulled in the middle. "Yes!" said the Sun. "Oh, when is that?" he reported (and I could just see her, pen poised, waiting for something). "When I'm playing Tug of War!" he joked. He went in to see her straight from school, with his two pigtails extra fuzzy, dirt on his face and a rock t-shirt on.
So things are quiet, but you just never know what TF is going to pull out of his ass. But I'm wondering what's going on with him... I got an accidental text from him tonight informing someone (not me) that he was playing softball tonight, so exactly how disabled he is, I dunno. Where the fuck is my child support? I wrote ACS asking them to look into it... and what I should do about asking for a cost-of-living adjustment.
The workout thing is still going well. The only thing that stops me dead in my tracks is sometimes my asthma kicks in. But I hit the inhaler and go on back and work through it. I'm constantly stiff but it feels good. Of course it has revved up my appetite so I don't know that I'm going to lose the spare tire. And funny thing... I guess I wasn't in quite as bad shape as I felt, because I can feel the muscles under the fat strengthening already... which makes the fat sit right up front and "settle." Right around my waist. So whereas a few weeks ago I wasn't liking the overall roundness I saw in the mirror, I can actually see the spare tire and it flips me out. It's also a little odd to hit the limitations of your body, and then attempt to push past it. Like I remember as a kid that I had the most strength in my legs, in my kicks. But lately I get to the point where the body simply can't get those legs to do what I want them to. The brain is willing but the legs are like "Oh hell no." Kinda frustrating. But... I almost got a split the other day. Pretty cool.
I'm back to giving up on a lovelife... despite the fact that I went to visit the OB/GYN the other day. You know they always ask you when your last period was... "uh, dunno" I told the nurse. I completely lose track when there's no reason to keep track. I rediscovered my love of Medicaid--taxpayers don't want to pay for unwanted babies, so Medicaid covers birth control. For free. (Medicaid WON'T, however, pay for shit that PREVENTS asthma, like good strong antihistamines. But the WILL pay for shit the TREATS asthma... like Advair. I tell you, it's a conspiracy.) So it's ironic that I've no need for the shit. Whatever-it-is with Nene has settled into comfortably-charged silence... I respect that he refrains from making as many comments as he used to... but I still get weirdly-intense stares (his eyes change color, which is something I never really noticed... the other day they were blue because his shirt was) but whatever.... I just go along with my life.
"Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"
At the back of my mind, not finding a way out just yet, are the monumental losses in Asia.... the earthquake, the cyclone and the loss of the ship carrying humanitarian aid. It's crazy. I was thinking of putting up something on Cafe Press to donate the proceeds of.... but it seems a drop in the bucket. It makes you wonder what God is thinking...