Notes from the Red Bird House

There comes a point when I just can't do it anymore. Do what? Talk. I may give the impression that I'm a social person. I'm not, not in the truest sense anyway. I like people and I enjoy hanging out. Until I don't. My 'quota' gets filled and I'm done. Done done, as in 'not going to answer the phone' or 'go out for a drink' done. In these moments, I'm perfectly content to text. Until I'm not. At some point all my words and my complete ability to be social disappear and I'm left happily silent. I love silence, even crave it. I don't mind hearing the wind in the trees or my dogs chewing on their bones. That to me is it's own kind of silence. In a way it's peaceful. Mostly, I think because I can't hear anyone speaking. As I said before, I get to a point when I don't want words or conversation, whether I'm directly involved, over hearing it, or watching it on TV. To say I have no patience is probably an unde

I've been off my meds (the Anti-Everything Pills, affectionately known as 'AEPs' and pharmaceutically known as 'Zoloft') for about ten days now. I didn't quit cold turkey. As usually happens, I get forgetful about taking them, continue to feel pretty good on a day-to-day basis, then stop taking them all together. You see, someday I'd like to be completely unmedicated, except for the occasional over the counter pain or allergy relief, which doesn't really count as being 'medicated' in my book anyway. It's the daily doses of stuff I'm trying to avoid. And that's why I cycle off the AEPs every six months or so. I just don't want to be dependent upon them if I don't have to be and I won't know if I have to be unless I stop taking them every so often. The last time I cycled off, back in April, didn't last long. If I was off of them two weeks, it was a long time. I'm not sure what was going on in my life, but the absen

'My mind forgets to remind me that you're a bad idea.' ~ timely Taylor Swift (yes, I'm well aware I usually hate her) lyric from 'Sparks Fly' As much as I resist, I do like a spark. Especially the unexpected kind. Yes, I never expected this one. Seriously, I didn't. Too much time had passed and I was beyond it. I was sure of it. I'd progressed and assumed she had too. And therein lies the problem - her progress. Ugh. They grow up and turn almost thirty. Which is still half a light year from forty and still FAR too young, but it's not nearly as young as it used to be. Two years is two years. A lot can happen. Least of all, barely twenty-five become twenty-eight. And sparks still fly. At least for me. That may prove to be my saving Grace. Hell, I don't plan on doing anything anyway, but thankfully the one way nature of those 'sparks' usually puts me decidedly, if not happily, in my place. I'm here; she's there. I'm free

I've decided that instead of railing against it, I'm going to embrace it. Women don't stick around long in my world. Hallelujah! I am blessed. Some may disagree. They want something a little closer to forever than next Tuesday and think everyone else should as well. I, myself, am cool enough with next Tuesday. I could very well be bored by next Wednesday anyway so why worry about it? Let me go back a moment and recount a conversation between me and one of my friends this past weekend... Me: So, I kinda like this straight girl. Friend: Do you really want to go down that path again? Me: What path? Friend: The path that'll get you hurt. Me: Look, it's not like all that. Friend: How so? Me: I don't want a girlfriend and neither does she. It's perfect, really. Friend: Ah... That makes sense. I have long gotten crap from friends about my straight girl crushes. Now, I admit that in the distant past, I let them get the better of me. I actually bel

Straight women are confusing. Let's just start there, shall we? In all honesty, I know it's not the straight women who are confusing. It's the straight women who want to be be confusing that are confusing. Truly, I have a zillion of straight friends who have never once confused me. They were what they were (ie. straight) and I was what I was (ie. not) and we got along famously and with absolutely no confusion what so ever. Confusion is ok. It is. I'm beyond buying into it. I recognize fun when I see it and a confused straight woman can be the best kind. It's just that I like to know what sort of confusion I'm walking into before I walk into it. Are we talking about experimental confusion (meaning I might actually get somewhere) or attention-getting confusion (meaning I'm not getting a damn thing)? Experimental confusion is where I was in my mid to late twenties. I still called myself 'straight' but I knew deep inside that the jury was still out.

I've long had little tolerance for bullshit. Assuredly, I've created plenty of my own on occasion. Probably not as much as most, but I've contributed my share. These days, however, I'm trying to limit my involvement all together. It's out of necessity, really. I don't have the time or energy to deal with anything that smacks of bs or drama. Given that bs and drama are EVERYWHERE, I find myself retreating more and more into myself. I'm a forgiving person, so it's not like I hold grudges or wish evil on anyone who has splashed me and my life with bullshit. All that only serves to create more bullshit and as I said, I have a low tolerance. And really, what good would it do for me to piss, moan, and whine about this or that? I don't see the point. I deal by forgiving and retreating. I love who I love and, I assure you, that won't change any time soon. In my world, it's possible to love but not like. This means that I'm not going to stick ar

I don't know if my life could be more full. That's not to say that I have everything I need. Eh, as I say that, I think I'm pretty close. Everyone needs more time, so I don't think that's an appropriate thing to list. Of course, it is the time factor that leads me to say that my life is full. I guess I should explain that by 'full' I mean jam-packed with little time to spare for much of anything. My top priorities these days? 1. Work. 2. Faith. 3. Sleep. 4. Running. 5. Writing. 6. My dogs. 7. Proper hydration (to support my training). 8. Proper eating (to support my training). 9. Debt reduction. 10. Friends, including social networking. 11. Personal hygiene. 12. Shoulder rehab. 13. Pondering divinity school applications. Assuredly some things should rank higher than they do, 'shoulder rehab' for one and 'my dogs' for two, but as of right now, I'm doing the best I can. So, see? There's isn't much room for much else. God help me

I suppose I'd be more motivated to write if I was having a drink. I used to like to do that - drink and write. It's not that I don't like to anymore, it's just that I don't do it anymore. In the past few months, I've changed my life ever so slightly and those changes preclude weekday drinking. They also preclude a lot of weekend drinking. I haven't quit all together and I certainly don't plan to, however these days it takes a 'special occasion' (like Happy Hour or a pretty girl or both) to get me to drink. Especially during the week. And given that it is officially 'during the week' and I lack a special occasion, I'm writing sober and largely unmotivated. So, why have I cut back on my drinking? Theoretically, I have more money now than I've had in the past two years. God knows I found a way to afford to drink my way through a good portion of those years. Truly, when I want to drink, I find a way. It's that easy. Hell, I near

'It's times like these that I just don't know. I've managed to turn every choice, mine and the ones made for me, into a positive, but I do occasionally wonder. I truly believe I've made the right choices; I wouldn't have my life any other way. It's just that laying here in this hotel room, in my old home town, I wonder.' ~ Stacee Ann Harris, September 10, 2011 I'm two days and four hundred miles removed from those musings above, but I still haven't quite shaken the feeling. My soul is different there, better somehow. I keep waiting for here to make me feel the same. I've been in Austin two years and, while there are many wonderful things about 'Here', it's still not 'There'. Assuredly, Texarkana is not Austin and never will be. Of course, Austin is not Texarkana and will never be. They say that Texarkana is wholly unsuited for someone like me and Austin should be perfect. Should be... It's the 'should be'

I'm tired and I have a headache. It's really not the way I wanted to start the day. I got enough sleep (more than nine hours), so when I say I'm 'tired', I don't mean that I'm sleepy or that I want to go back to bed. I'm just tired - tired of being (even though I love being), tired of working (even though I love my job), tired of being busy (even though it has it's definite perks), tired of commitments, tired of needing to be somewhere, tired of communication, tired of bullshit (especially the petty, 'who cares' kind), tired of people, tired of focusing. And the headache this morning doesn't help. I need some 'found time' and I need it fast. The only problem is that at this point, I'm going to need a six month sabbatical from the world to actually feel rejuventated. It's been nine months since my last vacation and eons since I enjoyed a 'mental health' day off. I just can't afford the time away from work righ

When I look out over the landscape of the next few months, I wonder if I'll be able to do everything I'm planning to do. See, I've never been one to accomplish much. I make tentative plans with myself. That way I can either follow through or not. More often that not, I don't follow through. It's not a failure, per se. It's just not a success. I like to think I do enough without hardly trying. I point myself in the right direction and hope for the best. Luckily, every so often, thoughts actually do become things. Between now and the end of January, I have a lot on my plate - Three 5k races One half marathon A huge roll-out at work (that just adds to everything I have to do regardless) Moving my dogs from Texarkana to Austin Moving the rest of my crap from Texarkana to Austin Renting out my house in Texarkana Depending on how the dogs settle in, I may have to find a new place to live (I'm hoping I can hang on here for awhile, but we'll have to se

If I'd gotten pregnant the last time I had sex, I'd be due this month. I agree that it's a sad commentary on my sex life but I, for one, am truly ecstatic that I didn't get knocked up back in December. This has little to do with the heat, swelling, and other assorted discomforts that come with the ninth month of pregnancy and a lot to do with not wanting to be a parent. God help us all. Truly. I can't say I've ever had the desire. Ever. Well, there was that one time with that one girlfriend when I actually acquiesced and told her that I'd be cool with it. I'd have parented with her. But yeah... Short of that? No. Not a chance. And if she approached me today nearly ten years later? I'd run screaming the other way. It's not that I don't like kids. I like them ok. They're funny and I enjoy interacting with them. For brief and highly controlled periods. By no means do I ever want to be left alone with a child for more than a potty break o