Wastin' time. The industrial world seems to be set up for it. So many lines to wait in. Waitin' in traffic, waitin' to start work, waitin' for appointments, waitin' for this, waitin' for that. The mullethead had it right when she was in the game. Work odd hours, go against traffic, hit the stores when they first open so there's less competition for space, and shorter lines.
Waitin'. Forcin' one to be unproductive. But, one can meditate or think during these times, no? Maybe read a book, bring a piece of paper and pen or pencil to write down any creative thought process or epiphany that comes to them at such a time. It seems the so called 1st world nations are manufactured so one has to wait. Again, I'm not used to it, and I don't like it, yet sort of vaguely, not quite, but almost repeatin' myself; I am now in a state where either I wait, or I walk away on a wing and a prayer.
I do have the option. I think.
Well, yes! I do. I can beg, plead, beseech my mentor to walk us out of here; which he will not willin'ly do unless really painted into a corner he can't get out of, or I can go off alone in a fit of rage and deal with the consequences later.
The consequences of a'changin' my mind. The consequences of goin' against what I knew was a good thing when I decided to do it. The consequences of breakin' a contract with myself. The consequences of havin' to exist with myself for. . .um. . .goin' against my own code of honour. That's like breakin' a geis. Not good. And I'd have to exist with that forever!
I chose to come here for a maximum of 18 months. That's what we leased the house for, and it has been paid off. I had decided it would be more fun to not know what was going to happen before I got here, which is now drivin' me absolutely nuts; but so it is. My mentor does know, but he ain't tellin'. Mullethead doesn't have a clue either, but she doesn't care. She's just enjoyin' finally bein' with me and mine.
Why did I make that decision that I now so rue? Why was I so stupid? My first love says I wasn't stupid, that it was a very good idea for the sake of personal experience, and all was meant to be, is as is to keep the general scheme of things runnin' smoothly.
Hmmmmm. Does my writin' like I speak (when pretendin' I speak regular English) with my droppin' the 'g' at the end of my ings make me sound like an uneducated country bumpkin? Well, I ain't ever been to university or any school for that matter, but. . .that's not to say I didn't have some mighty fine teachers in my. . .um. . .existence.
Anyway, I suppose I really should get off of this topic for good. After all, my lovely mentor did guarantee me one thing. It would not be more than a total of 18 months, though he refused to say if it was less; though at the moment it sure the Hell looks like it. But why did I ask for the extra month to make do if problems arrived? There are a total of 16 publications. We needed a month to set us up, and a month for each publication. Nothing has ever been late, and one volume was put up early; so it looks like I, or should I say 'we' might be able to get out of this volatile Hell-hole early, though we are situated away from the chaos. But ultimately, there is no place safe; dependin' on what happens. But why would I put myself into that sort of position where I was threatened?
Maybe I didn't. Maybe I just thought I'd get off on the uncertainty, which is somethin' I haven't known in forever. Everythin' was goin' to run like a well oiled machine, but I wasn't allowed to know that? That's somethin' that does not 'fribble me giblets'.
I am a control freak, when it comes to my own basic existence. I want everythin' in its proper place. Uh, based on past blog entries, there is one exception to this control freak thing. I have yet to object to be taken out of various 'then present' circumstance for the sake of bein' ravished, but that's not what this post is about, so. . .
OK! I am royally averse to the concept of waitin', the concept of uncertainty, the concept of losin' control of a situation, the concept of personal danger in any way, shape or form to me and my loves, and so HERE I AM!!!!!!!!!! Makes about as much sense as the functionin' of the divided United Stated government.
Not at all.
Now will this be the final post on this topic?
I dunno. Maybe. I sure think about it all the time. And because of it I will consider a part of me quite lackin' in intelligence until I find out WHY I did this to myself, IF there is a justifiable reason. And as far as I'm concerned, that may be a might big 'if'.
Gods, that wonderful glitch of an early publication sure is messin' with me. It drove me to the highest highs the day it happened, then made me think the opposite could just as likely occur, and now I just can't let go of the pessimistic thought pattern.
Then again, I do live with a formerly verrrrrrry pessimistic mullethead.
Go figure.
Ye gods, I should really be workin' on a poem that I owe to that mullethead. Don't feel like, it, though. Rather ski, but I have to wait until we go to town again to get another pair for me, since I broke one bein' stupid. Ah, I think I'll hit the pond on my skates. Then after, it's my turn to make lunch. I may even whip somethin' up gourmet. After all, I really should work on emptyin' that fridge for the shoppin' trip the day after tomorrow.
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