Notes from the Red Bird House

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...