Had I remembered to write yesterday, I would have written about how exactly blue the sky was at 10am when I was in the middle of an airstrip on the edge of town, before a job interview I had at the Kansas Aviation Museum. It was the most amazing shade of cornflower blue and took my breath away. I couldn't help but send Mister a text to tell him about it. I feel so anxious about him at times that I avoid speaking with him when he is who I want to speak to the most at times. He makes me laugh and that in some ways is so rare. He sent me a text back wishing me luck and asking me when I was coming, but when I told him not soon enough and gave him a date, the wrong date, which I later corrected, he never replied. Since our visit in December we've talked less often, but I feel like when we have the words have somehow mattered more. But, I'm probably over thinking it, as I usually do.
The interview did not go as well as I had hoped. My mind was other places, and I wasn't exactly sure what it was they wanted. When the director called while I was taking a late afternoon nap to say they had chosen someone else for the second interview, I was relieved. It was a fairly large pay cut and more hours.
Nin and I have been together today beside the fire. Her trapped inside a book and myself trapped inside a house that as badly as I want it to feel like home, does not. Home is somewhere else right now. Some place unknown and slightly terrifying to think of as it means leaving behind the child and allowing him to grow into something I may not recognize. And, I too, may change again. I'm entering what I think is probably the third stage of my life and I'm not exactly sure what that looks like. Not that I could see the other stages of my life before they happened, but now that I am older I think i like having a bit more control--perhaps insight is a better word. But, I still know that for my own growth to happen, I must leave and I must do it soon. I'm was thinking the fall, but if something happened to move up that date, I would go. I know I'm ready even if the child is not (though he is probably more ready than even I know).
It is Saturday night, and I am sitting here alone, listening to the man who I may or may not love sing through cheap speakers, "Will you be the one that loves me" over and over in a sad chant and drinking whiskey.
Nin wrote in Fire, It is hard for me to believe in continuous, sustained happiness, just as it is hard for me to believe in love. I take whiskey and I think, Oh, to hell, to hell with caring so much, to hell with everything."
Nin and I walk the same tight rope. She is the subject of my latest poem. Which is going so slow, I wonder why I still write at all. Why I have not just stopped and moved on to something more sublime, like painting or fencing.
In 59 days, I will be 39. I have been trying to think of things I would like to do before I turn 39. I have such a hard time being consistent in most things. Like this blog. I said I would write everyday in 2013 and already I have missed at least four days, but maybe it has been six.
What I want to do is find a new job. That's it. I doubt that will happen before then though, because I am where I need to be for the time being, but I am looking for something nearer to him every day. Checking the classifieds everyday applying for things that may fit.
I know that the fall would be a better time to move, but I feel such need to leave sooner. Which is sort of silly. We have barely spoken since I was there in December, but yet, I'm still drawn to him. I want to waste all my words on him the way I did Jason, the philosopher, for the years between. Thankfully, Jason finally broke my heart for the final time last month. He is gone for good and I am happy he is. It was really much easier to give him up than I ever thought it would be. There were no tears when I finally said goodbye. Just relief. I wasted so many of my best words on him. So much writing energy that I could have been turning into poetry.
Next month, I will back in Nashville. I think I will know for a fact after that trip if that is where I should be. It felt so right last time I was there. Like it was where I should be for this next stage of my life. Where I would hopefully write and grow.
Time to work on that poem. My goal today. 50 new words. No less, but hopefully more.
