no, I am not myself

Kittens, neglecting to get one’s prescription for brain meds refilled for four days while every single person in one’s support system is in crisis makes one feel an awful lot like this:

Image courtesy of the AMAZING Sean Godsey.

Lesson learned: DO NOT FUCK WITH THE MEDS.


P.s. I am feeling MUCH better now.



It’s been a while, so I’m just going to jump back into this bloggy thing with a bunch of non sequiturs because that’s how I roll.

Things are good.

The sprogs opted to live full time with the baby-daddy back in March and, should that have happened, like, 3 years ago, I would have been a disaster about it because ALL THAT IT MEANS TO MY MOTHERHOOD. But I don’t feel it challenged at all. I feel like the sprogs have an arsenal of learning and experience and resources to guide them through their own decision-making. Far be it for me to hold them to me as our paths in life diverge.

I started (and have since abandoned) a sex blog. It lead to a slew of really fun projects, many of which I continue to be a part. Good, filthy, creative fun. I want to get back to this, but have a lot to reconcile around it. I ‘m not comfy with keeping things secret all the time. I hold loads of other peoples’ secrets and feel very little need to hold my own, but I started it all anonymously and am having a difficult time wrapping my wee noggin ’round what retracting or integrating that might look like. Still fun.

I keep moving departments at work. I don’t know what it all means. SNAFU.

I kinda need to figure out what to do about living arrangements due to aforementioned sprog arrangements. Not sure I want a housemate and not sure I want to move. I am conflicted.

I’m a bit of a smitten kitten over a boy whose company I’ve been enjoying greatly over the last few months. It’s very rare that good Mel-wranglers turn up; folks who get the kinds of connections I find really gratifying in between my weird, if short-lived, periods of hermitting up and processing and NEEDING to make and do. Not getting into the nitty gritty, but yeah. He wrangles well. Swoon.

It’s finally sunny and warm and it’s really difficult to keep the ADHD in check when I just want to be out playing silly baseball with the silly baseball players across the road from work or to be playing with the pig-dog and Mr. Bitey Kitty in the yard. Interesting plants are everywhere and growing and I want to commune with them and grow freckles and get brown.

I have a gazillion and 83 ideas I want to realise. I want to do get back into the craft/art show circuit. I want to express a whole bunch of shit. I want to create, create, create. As always, time is the dictatrix.

That’s me stuffed for now, kittens.