Sleep’s Over-Rated

Sometimes the thoughts come all at once.

The trick to getting them on paper is that I let them stew a bit.

Errata: Below it should say that I SHOULD NOT have to read other things to enjoy a movie.

This last weekend was Bencon. I played more than I thought I would. For a change I had immense fun at every game. Of course I got a lot of bastard characters too. That helps. Then Saturday night rolled around, and I got myself a little more toasted than usual. (What proof was that rum?) So after lectures on how Star Wars promotes the family unit, (Lit Crit 101) and how gamers should shower every day, (It’s in the rules!) I ended up with a date for Thursday (G). Some how that came out wrong 🙂

And there is still so much in my head that I just can’t get on paper.

I have a short story to send out. Got to work on that. But otherwise this week will be spent on house cleaning that I didn’t get done on the weekend. Then I have a high school reunion to head to.

Why is June so busy? Then I have to give a party for my sister’s baby. It might show up this week or next, instead of a shower, I’m giving a welcome baby party. (Same thing cept the baby ain’t in that tummy no more). Then I have Dnd again. (Twack Smash!)

Breathe baby breathe.

Of course there’s work too. Freelance stuff has been down a bit, so maybe I’ll have more time to play (Come on Hell, Freeze over).

Are weekends supposed to be life changing?

Then there are the torrential rains Colorado has been having. I love them, except when I get stuck in my car for hours because of them. I missed my doctor’s appointment too. (Need those meds!)

So what will the next week bring?

Freak out. Well okay it is still the same day and with the way my mind works I found I better write it down if I want to sleep. So then if I can be labeled as damaged goods, what right do I have to look for companionship possibly inflicting my damage on others.

Let’s see. I have mental and physical damage galore, baggage like Brittney’s Spears private jet, and depending on who you talk to my spirit is going to Hell. Now not all of these are problems. Like my daughter. She’s good baggage, but others don’t always see it that way.

That’s fear number one. Many people see the good things in my life at bad things.

The physical damage is a biggy. Men who generally get told of this are done with me. Hell, it’s probably one of the reasons why my second husband left.

That’s fear number two.

Mental not so much of a problem, unless you’re the man who has to deal with it. Both my ex’s cited this as good reason to cheat/leave. And in the causal dating scene usually has me getting myself home after an hour or two.

So, those are my three fears of dating. Some of these were mentioned last weekend, but the date for Thursday hasn’t even glimpsed the iceberg’s summit. Not only would a walk from downtown be unpleasant, but at this point in my life to start actively discouraging men if they show any interest at all.

This guy has heard me rant and rave before. Crap, he heard me rant and rave this weekend. Still he showed interest and when given the opportunity (after clawing through the anxiety that I might be wrong about the signals) acted on it. Hell I don’t know what I even want any more.

Part of me says: Buckle down, forget about me and spend all my energy on my daughter. I still feel guilty about taking any part of the pie for myself and not my daughter.

The other part says why? Still anything I do for myself gives me guilt. My family is partially to blame for that. I get the lecture every time I see my grandfather: That girl is #1, it doesn’t matter what you want. He’s right but should I stop living for myself at all? I spent a lot of time on my daughter. I love her to death but should that stop me from living?

Then I get back to the mental and physical: What right do I have to inflict myself on others?

Stupid circles.

The right thing to do is let him decide. So I will. Let’s just hope my feet are only tired from dancing Thursday night and not from a long walk down Colfax.

Why must I be a pessimist?

52 Stories
Outline: Dreamfire
Never cut what you can untie.Joubert (1754-1824)






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