turn back the clock

by day 2, i was already back to weird vampiric night-crawling hours. by day 3, i was up til 5. got home at 2:00, didn't *feel* sleepy, so thought, "oh, i'll just have some wine and work on these spread sheets." finally turned my head around and it was light out. dozed a bit, and of course at work i looked and felt terrible and my mind was silly putty.

ack. how did i do that all those years?

this morning i was back up with the early birds with no effort. up even before the alarm. then kept awake by jackhammers, lol. so i put my nose down and finished the BIG one. i think the owner knows how impossible it has been for me to *work* in that particular location. no time, no privacy, a trillion interruptions and the most ergonomically fucked up desk and chair i've ever encountered. had to twist like a pretzel. so finally caved and worked at home. where i did log my hours.

i feel very good about this. finally. small yeah for me. let's see what he lets me execute. it is what he hired for me and is a far sight better than what i inherited. we shall see. he might be on the golf course all damn day for all i know.

it's been ages since i've had two days off (even though i worked all morning, lol). no work, no class. it feels nice. particularly since i'm moments away from some ugly banking. ack.

will i ever climb out of this hole? what the fuck was i thinking? i relied upon something that rested on the thinnest twig. in past relationships i'd always been so conscious of "what should happen if i end up on my own?" and always structured it so i could manage. when and how did he implant the rcg's so i'd believe anything he said? i'm fucked every way, every day to sunday. the recent love letters from his note-holding barrister brother ... wtf was i thinking? i should have told them all to go to fuck themselves. instead, i stayed in my place, thinking there would be some kind of grace in it. idiot. he's just one more suit with a claw in both my side and my future.

i get mentally straightjacketed when i've got too many conflicts, too many choices, too many decisions. hell, an overly-large dinner menu befuddles me. now i've got too many problems seemingly in a gordian knot, and it's never ever been this bad before. i've been aridly broke and lived on rice and lentils more than once, but i wasn't spooning them up from the bottom of a well of debt. a hole that gets deepened daily by my inability even to get one leg up. a toe-hold. something. no one to ask for advice makes everything seem even worse. the editor, a very wealthy man and in charge of one of the top financial publications on earth, couldn't discuss money. i didn't want any actual lucre from him (he knew that) just some compass points of advice. impossible. how ridiculous and useless was that? (just another rant i have about him -- no point in more of that here.)

feh. it's time to face some music.

is that you fiddling, nero?