With the lights off, it's less dangerous, here we are now, entertain us

I'm having a day where I just want to scream and shoot a loud gun at some cans or a target with Sarah Palin's face. For over two weeks, I am seemingly incapable of unclenching. I lost a job I applied for within my company, and I'm okay with that on the face of it, but I'm reaching an odd point where I feel if I have to hear one more sob story or blatant lie in the course of a work day, I'm going to strip off my clothes and start acting like a monkey.

It is approaching the 1-year anniversary of my father's death, and it really hasn't gotten much easier to accept that he's not available for me to call and talk about the Oscars or what Norton is doing or what he thought about the super computer kicking ass at Jeopardy. This has not been a great year for me since last April. I keep going through stages where I think I'm okay and then I'm sooo not okay. I don't want to talk about my feelings all the time, though, I really don't, so Smitty has (thank GOD) identified and accepted my pattern of denial, denial, denial, then teary breakdown and catharsis...I couldn't be more grateful to have that tall drink of water as my husband than if I were Charlie Sheen and he was a big bag of cocaine.

On a completely different note, Smitty is gone until Saturday, and I'm concerned. What if a snake crawls in the house, or I start a fire, or hit my head on a cabinet and become concussed? See, this is not cool. I lived by myself for almost 10 years and was relatively self-sufficient, although I did have a family of rats living behind my stove in one apartment and had "Fight Club" in the garage of a house I rented in college, although I had roommates...I'm just saying, clearly, I can function by myself, but when I get used to having Smitty around to rub the head I bang on the freezer and use the scary Japanese knife that cuts the onions the best, I feel unsure.

Seriously, I just miss the hell out of him. He is my best friend...go vomit if you like, and I like having him around. However, we do, in fact, need time apart. He needs to do family stuff and outdoor man stuff like fishing and talking about bears and Nazis, and I need my time to play games and sing karaoke and perhaps attend an 80s movie showing. It's the glue, people....

I need a creative outlet other than this blog...desperately. I'm thinking of trolling for local writer's conferences and collecting money on the side of the road for the registration fee. I have got to feed this crazy brain with something other than fluff and piffle. How fun are those words? Let me know if you have any leads...

I leave you with this:

"You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left."

-- "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" Dr. Seuss