funky.

I've been in a funk since my boy left. On Sunday after dropping him off at the train, I was in a drunk funk. Yesterday I was in a hungover funk (which required a lot of movies, including The Way We Were, which in hindsight probably wasn't the best movie to watch about relationships). Today I'm still in a funk, but I'm working. I'm writing (with one lapse to clean and watch Mean Girls). At least I'm writing. I'm thinking about finishing my poetic novel...it's very close...just the final climax and resolution to do. I picked up another shift at work this weekend so as to avoid any post-love-weekend funks. Frankly, I'm tired of the funks, but I'm not sure how to get over it beyond just riding it out.

I'm really hoping that this long distance thing isn't going to be like this everytime. I don't want to be sad at the end of our weekends. I think it was harder this time because he was here...in my world...my space...and then he left. So there was this shadow of him in my rooms. I knew what it was like to have another person in my bed and waking up with me in my bedroom. So it was harder, when he left, to be alone.

It's getting better now. I feel better. I'm eating a lot. And making cookies.

And knitting this fun wrist warmers for chilly mornings, writing in my little attic.

Nevertheless, I can't help missing my love and parts of my former life. The parts where I was a teacher and got up everyday with a specific purpose. I guess I have to trust that my purpose now is to write. And perhaps the hardest part of that is the fact that I have to do it alone (for the most part, I mean, I am in grad school, there are nights at bars arguing about the state and art of poetry).

I'm hoping I will be a little less funked tomorrow.

working. and working. and not working.

I spent the last five days working at a real job. At a coffee shop in Portsmouth called, Breaking New Grounds (clever, huh?). It's a great place to work, as far as coffee shops go. No required uniform, very chill, cool people, good tips on busy weekends. The best part is that at the end of the night, I don't have to sweep or mop or clean the bathrooms. They have a service to do that for us. Anyone who has ever worked in food service can appreciate how freakin' cool that is.

But because I had to get a job and work, I have not written at all. The hours threw me off, I couldn't sleep at night, I couldn't function. This morning I was woken up (awoken? see...off my game) by a phone call from the principal of the jr/sr high school where I'd applied to be a substitute. He wanted to know if I wanted to work today. TODAY! Of all days, when I had finally slept decently and knew I needed to write. I politely declined saying I had a meeting at school this afternoon (apparently I'm a good liar early in the morning). And then I felt guilty. I would rather substitute then work at the coffee shop any day...but today. Today I really need to write.

So now I'm feeling guilty for not taking a job, even though I do kind of need the money. And what of those times when he'll call and I'm actually working at the coffee shop? Will he just stop calling? Why is this stressing me out so much? I've lost my rhythm and I'm sad. I've lost my mojo. And now I have to sit at this desk and write for the next few hours so I feel that I did not decline a job.

I need to remember that writing is my job and everything else (for the moment) just pays the bills.

if it's there.

If it's there, I'll do it and that's always kind of been my problem. I don't save chocolate bars. I don't ration the good to make it last longer. So that's why it's time to clean house...because if it isn't there, if I don't see it, I won't need it.