Some of the things above, I’m over. The lovers? Eh, the further way I get from it the more I realize that it was not meant to be, at least not forever. All happens to, at the very least, teach us lessons. But losing NYC…gods, losing NYC. It hasn’t stopped hurting. I’m not sure that it will until I somehow make my way back there. It doesn’t matter that I’m getting paid to save the world. Not even that saves me from myself, let alone the lack of the City. Hell, I’m not even in D.C. I’m in the concrete suburban mass of Arlington.

I also lost the creativity that I was finally pushing myself to let out. It just went *poof*.

No, that’s not right. *poof* seems all peaceful. There was nothing peaceful about what I’ve put myself and those around me through.

Depression shut me down. It shut it all down. I have these UP times in which I can accomplish anything. Then there are the down times. I just never realized the true meaning of “breakdown”until I had it. Depression (down) settled in for a long visit. It lost me so much.

Worst of all, it lost me not only all of my physical strength and my will to live, but my mental strength as well. Now I am recovering. I occasionally take two steps back for one that I’ve taken forward. However, as I climb out of the abyss, I can’t help but notice the irony of it all. I was quite literally mentally paralyzed and yet here it was, the exact state of mind to create the situations that could provide endless material for songs, fiction, non-fiction, etc. Whatever my incapacitated mind could think of doing then or later, it would find an inner library filled with experiences, mental trips through hell, trials and tribulations and loss, inner struggles, gains and losses, new experiences I never wanted or asked for, both good and bad, tempting habits and escapes…

As I climb out of the abyss, slipping back a bit here and there, I realize I can’t let it all have happened for nothing. From destruction let the creativity happen.

Recently I’d seem to start slipping back into that abyss I keep referring to. Along came a gentleman yesterday. It was as if fate sent him my way for a reason. He was walking clinical depression. He was on a second interview and it was his job to follow me around and get a feel for what his position would be like. Within 10 minutes I was pretty sure that I would not be recommending him for hire. His negativity radiated. Throughout the day all I heard him say is “Everything I do is wrong.” though no one had told him he was wrong. He had a view of how the world should look that day and it was not looking that way and he couldn’t deal with it. So at one point he handed me the clipboard we’d given him to carry around and just silently walked away. With him seem to slip away that depression that had seem to overcome me lately.

I watched the depression walk away.

And so I did something very very stupid for the sake of a song that I have yet to write. I deliberately cultivated negative emotions that night. I could already see myself on a dim stage, curled up tightly on a stool letting other people take care of the instrumental parts because this song…whatever it is, has to be expressed physically as well as vocally.

The song did not get written. I was distracted by a wonderful distraction. An old friend from college. I had been thinking of him, which was strange since we had not spoken in quite some time and had been just vaguely aware of one another’s existence for perhaps 7 or 8 years now. But I thought of him and then he contacted me saying that he had been thinking of me. Somehow, conversation with is proving to be a good thing for me. It wasn’t time lost. I don’t count everything as fate or coincidence. I decide every situation indvidually. I don’t believe this to be coincidence. So I talked to him and I think he gets me. And hey, we talk music so it was far from counterproductive.

I let him go so that I could finish the song started at B&N. But the tune wasn’t there. Talking to the friend had brought me out of the dark place that Evanescence had only somewhat done for me. (Let’s face it, they aren’t that dark.) So the next day was “tragic and miserable” day on purpose. The kind of day in which a person finds themself in the shower crying “Why…oh why…” much in the way of Nancy Kerrigan in news archives. (Why? Because you wanted to write a song, you fool. You aren’t even getting paid for this. What are you thinking?) Now I know why so many musicians turn to drugs. (Not that I am contemplating this. Just saying…)

I did rediscover the tune of the song from B&N. I apparently was singing loud enough to wake my neighbor upstairs from her afternoon nap judging from the sounds of movement up there. Oops. Yeah, not such a quiet song. I finally got out of that slump of writing nothing but folk sounding things! I didn’t get to the dark and ugly song though. I had to be sane enough to meet people for social purposes later on and that took some undoing of the damage from earlier.

And then there was that storm last night. Normally I am quite happy to sleep with others. Last night the storm had energized me though. I wanted to do something with it. I wanted to use it. I wanted to be solitary. Of course, the storm could not wait until tonight or tomorrow night. I will not see my lovers again for a week and will have all but one day of that to myself. But alas, I ended up laying there, eyes open, filled with energy and no way to use it. Generally speaking, I am NOT a morning person. Generally speaking, the presence of others does a 180 on my morning personality and I become a morning person. Oy. Not this morning. The energy had drained and the body and mind were asking “WTF?”

Thus I ask the powers of nature that be, may you bring another storm tonight? I would be ever grateful. I will even set the mood. Clear a space. Light some candles. Who needs electricity? Take it all away for a day. Just a day. The stormybalance awaits.

Once upon a time I thought being out about my bisexuality was a fairly large deal. I will not use this space to go one about the plight of the bisexual. Years ago I thought my bisexuality or lack of religion would be the cause of controversy in my life.

I am an open minded person. New York City is an open place. I find myself in situations that I once personally defined as unacceptable for myself but perfectly fine for others. Now my dear family, should I ever actually talk to them at enough length for them to hear about my personal life, would get to hear that not only do I have a girlfriend, but that girlfriend comes with a husband/fiance/boyfriend/whatever-they-call-themselves-this-moment and he is my boyfriend too. (Yes, just boyfriend. No other labels. I prefer to keep things simple and straightforward.) My family is not yet aware of the situation but if the topic comes up I will hide nothing. Ouch. Gay lifestyle and polyamory in one shot. I have yet to look this up but I hope that PFLAG has material for this. Then again, I suppose PFLAG brochures are only useful if the parent is willing to open them.

I must resist my temptation to go one now about how this is not all about sex and these are two very caring people who have shared so much of themselves with me and vice versa in the short time that we have been together. Suffice it to say, this is not just a “sex” thing. If it were, I would keep quiet and not deal with people’s attitudes.

I am an honest person. I do not say that lightly. I am honest to a fault. I do not hide who I am. I am not sure that I am even capable of doing so. Some people call me strong for it but the truth is that hiding who I am, what I am and what I believe in is about as easy for me as it would be for George W. Bush to pretend to be a member of the Green party. This is to say, that it is nearly impossible.

So I wonder what situation I have gotten myself into when my dear, sweet girlfriend mentions that her family could never know what I am to her or she would be disowned. (I do not know for certain if this is the case, but she feels that it is.) I certainly have no desire to be the cause of someone being disowned by their parents. I have an idea of what even the threat of such a thing feels like and it is certainly an anguish that I wish that I had never felt. It was mentioned that at the wedding of gf/bf I would have to pretend not to be what I am. If this relationship continues that far, I would be with them for probably close to two years by that point. While I am capable of stepping back and appreciating that this is their day, I am not so certain that I can pretend not to be who I am to them. It would tear me apart on multiple levels from feeling that I have dishonored my own strong beliefs in being true to who I am to the hurt from not being acknowledged even a little. If this situation continues, I will check in with myself when the time comes and do what I believe is best for everyone.

I am writing my songs right now and sometime in the not too distant future I would like to perform them in front of people. There are no songs that are clearly about the two people in question yet. Their names will not be mentioned. However, what if the “wrong” people showed up to support me as one of their friends? It is a rather distant “what if”, but I wonder, when you are someone’s secret, what they expect you to do in your own life to protect them? Once again, this is ahead of the game. I will say this though; my own tendency would be to perform the songs that would get people thinking more. I would love to do songs about polyamory and my explorations into it. I would love to open a few more minds. I feel very strongly about that and I question how far we should take this relationship when a deal breaker for me is being completely out and open about who I am and having the freedom to express my feelings with and about those that I am close to.

About a year ago I remember feeling like someone’s dirty little secret. I started to write a song about it but only got halfway into the song. I think I found the rest of the material.

This is about a challenge. This is a challenge to acknowledge that I have come too far in my life to get to somewhere to make choices that prevent me from achieving the person that I wish to become. It is an intellectual challenge. It is a personal challenge. Above all else it is a creative challenge. I know that there is an artist inside of me and yet I have failed to let that artist live on the outside. The artist has been pacing anxiously in a prison cell wondering if she will be too old and grey to do anything by the time she escapes. She knows that attempts have been made to free her and that she has on occasion seen the light of day, but that she always inevitably finds herself back in that cell, not fully aware of how she ended up back there.

Years ago I declared that I was not meant for a desk job. Somehow, most human resources departments seemed to pick up on that because despite a well stocked resume and a well rounded collection of skills, no one seems interested in so much as calling me in for interviews. I did well as a teacher in Japan because I was on my feet and interacting with people. The only time I did not do well was with the business part of the job. Even that, I learned to put a face on for, but it grated on me. I came to New York and became a Teaching Fellow, but I clashed with a principal and also with the department of education. A teacher like me does not fit in well with the DOE. I never have been able to do well with someone else’s way. The only way that I can be effective with students is to create my own way of reaching them. This does not jive with a system that is working on quality control through disorganized and confusing micromanagement. Of course, the real problem was that a corrupt principal put me into a bad situation and did not get away with it. I had to be disposed of.

So I was burned by the DOE. Here I was. I escaped the nightmare of Chicago suburbia for Japan and succeeded in not returning. I was set free by the DOE in New York City. I had come to this city to be creative and to interact with creative types. And suddenly, for the first time while here, I had nothing to do. There was no full time teaching job to juggle with DOE politics and grad school. It was all gone.

What should a budding artist do in this situation? Why get an office job of course!

It made sense at the time. It all seemed so easy. The plan was to go to work by day and create by night. My assumption was that the job would absorb much less of my mind than the combination of teaching and grad school.

The plan was flawed. This plan works for many people. I failed to realize that because my mind works differently than most people, this would not work for me. I have always known that I march to a different beat than just about anyone else I know. People are constantly asking why I do things the way I do because the way that I am doing things makes no sense to them. But the way I do things works for me and the normal way of doing things never has. Thus, why would a normal career path work?

I was fired. My boss probably thinks that I am the dumbest, most incompetent person that she has ever met. Dumbest? Absolutely not. Incompetent? As her administrative assistant I was.

I was okay in the beginning. But then the monotony of sitting in front of a computer in a cave/office all day, day after day, began to wear me down. Call me a wimp. Call me neurotic. I just can’t do it. Literally, I am unable to do that. My brain shuts down and I am unable to function. I fail to do things that I am perfectly capable of doing when stuck in a position like that for too long. I would say that “too long” happened for this job after around 5 or 6 months. Add in a couple of distracting personal issues, stir and mix. It’s the perfect cocktail for a firing.

It was a nasty cycle. I would work from 9-6 and fret over how underpaid I was, how zonked the job made me feel, etc. I would come home and attempt to create. After a couple of months I was too numb to create. These kinds of jobs numb me and when I am numb I turn off in every single way.

I wanted to walk out but I did not due to not wanting to waive unemployment rights. I stuck it out and watched things get worse and worse, trying to will myself to make it all better but unable to motivate myself to climb out of the slump in that position. My former boss seemed surprised several days ago when I took being fired so well. Why the surprise? She knew that I was unhappy. Perhaps she did not realize that I am not as stupid as she may have thought. Perhaps she failed to realize that I was waiting for her to stop waiting for me to quit. I was fired and given a couple of weeks’ severance as well as told not to come back the next day. It was all I could do not to jump out of my chair for joy. Scared? Maybe. But empowered as well.

This period of unemployment shall be different. There will be no obsessing over monster.com. I’m hitting up Starbucks because at least I will be on my feet and interacting with real human beings again. I can chat it up with the best of them and I like being kept busy during the daily grind, it makes it all go quicker. I prefer to save my mental resources for the post work tasks. See, I’d done a bit of math before being fired. I’d realized that Starbucks paid about the same and gave their employees better benefits than what I was getting and had already decided on applying. It’s not a forever job. It’s an “I can deal with this better for now” job. I might do something else instead. The idea of being a nanny has popped up. Two potential positions have popped up. Hrm. I could do that.

Here is where this all turns a bit flakey and naive for some. I am reopening myself to the universe. I forgot what that was like. I forgot what it was like to really LISTEN. I forgot what it was like to really flow. Already, I can tell that just flowing through my days of unemployment, relaxed and knowing that what I am meant to do will come to me or I will naturally stumble upon it, will work better. For the first time in a long time I am really living in this city again. This city is wonderful for people like me. One can wander and answers seem to fly out of everywhere. They could be in the tea shop with the owner who is passionate about what he sells and would love to hire someone who is completely inexperienced to pass on his knowledge and passion. It could be in the flier that leads the woman to track down the movie that will lead her to decide to stop being numb, to go home and to start to create, beginning with a declaration of what she is to do with her life.

I will flow. I will create. I will acknowledge the need to pay the bills, but I will not take a job that will numb my mind again. To do so will only hurt me and others.