editing.

Going through my links folders & adding stuff I might want to get around to reading to my nifty little google reader thing. I think about reading and books & how I have this combination love/hate thing going on with them right now... I push myself to read them because it's something that used to give me such pleasure, however as much as I hate to admit it--I do think that part of the "snack culture" appeals to me. & that is. I like reading snippets here & there... I like grabbing as much information as I can take in all at once, and this is mostly small chunks of information because otherwise it really is too much. I seem to have some of that adult ADD thing going on. I can concentrate on a lot of little bits all at once, but can't keep it going on long enough to actually get through a chapter in a book.

I'm thinking in broad, bright strokes that cover everything in my life all at once--it's all encompassing. My mind moves too fast for me to bother trying to keep up most days and I feel myself just kind of let it go. I become a quiet observer to this part of my self. It all moves so fast & it literally consumes everything I have to give it so that I fall into bed early and I sleep hard and heavy.

I have panic dreams almost every night now.

He says to me, "I should call M if you are interested in that job by the way..." Even though we already had this discussion and it ended like this, I looked at him and he without pausing said, "You want to finish your degree either way, don't you?" And I sighed and spit it out quickly before *I* had a chance to think, to pause... "YES." And there, I'd said it out loud. So I thought it was done... the conversation about other jobs, I mean.

But no, it comes up again and I think, "do you even know me?" And then I realize I really fucking hate crunching numbers. I hate all things that have to do with bookkeeping. I hate balancing checkbooks and going to the bank. And that is what this other job *is* that he is talking about and I think, "WHY on earth would I DO that ever again?"

And so I tell him, "I won't have time!" And he says, "so take it for a few months & quit when you get rolling with the other stuff." & I look at him with my eyes wide because this, too, is NOT who I am. We've had this conversation about five hundred times but here we are again. I just shake my head & he's pissed, but fuck it--that's his deal. I have all sorts of shit I'm trying to wrap up in the next month, not to mention the half dozen projects I have going in my free time that I COULD and maybe should be saving for working hours but I am so passionate about that I just drive myself regardless... I have two kids that I'm already prepping myself to miss horribly for the next two years. I'm already thinking in terms of "she'll be 10 when this is all said & done & that may be bad..." Or, "he'll be almost 13..." I am trying to do things around the house that should have been done long ago & I realize it's futile to even attempt to take care of it now, but I'm trying just the same.

I have panic dreams every night now.

I'm not just stepping outside the lines of the box I've drawn... I'm wiping them off the board altogether. I'm obliterating them. This is not how things were "supposed" to go.
...it's better...
and scarier.
It's scary as all fuck.

I am terrified mostly. & if I'm not terrified then I'm so completely, explosively... something that is so beyond excited and exultant and energized that it deserves its very own word. It's a word that doesn't even exist yet. ...and then I slip slide back into the panic and terror and it goes like this every day. I can't breathe for the excitement of promise & I can't breathe for the pressure of panicked performance.

It is scary as all fuck and I can't help that I love it just as fiercely.