I haven't blogged in ages, and for good reason: I don't know how to write to no one in particular about the way my life has been lately, and I don't know how to write about much else without mentioning what's happened. I've decided to just say to hell with it and be honest. So, here's what's been going on in order of occurrence (with some overlapping):
-- My father died.
-- My roommate/closest NY friend had melanoma, then surgery, then convalescence, then moved.
-- My incredibly cute nephew was born.
-- A new roommate was sought and, after some time, effort, and spreadsheeting, found.
-- I went on a business trip to Madison that was excruciatingly boring in the days and fun in the evenings.
-- A friend was married.
The best and worst of these--the birth of my nephew and death of my father--are intertwined in a way that keeps me from being ecstatic about the one (after all, I'm far too angry that my father didn't get to meet his first grandchild) and from going over the edge about the other (after all, there's this whole new person in our lives that we get to discover and spoil).
So basically I'm balancing the following urges at all times:
-- the urge to walk around with my head down, arm in the air, and middle finger extended to the world
-- the urge to weep hysterically
-- the urge to wrap the afghan around me and zone out on the futon watching daytime TV
-- the urge to grab what happiness, fun, and enjoyment there is to grab, whether or not it gets past the first layer of my consciousness
Countervailing all of these urges is the responsibility to do right by my family and friends and not fall into a self-absorbed hole. As well as the need to keep my brain from melting out my ears.
And that's how things are. All photos, snark, and commentary happen in this context. If anybody's reading this, they ought to know.