I haven't been posting much lately. Things are not going all that great and I don't really want to talk about it. I blogged a bunch when I got divorced about love and relationships and blah blah blah. It was a big learning experience of navel gazing wisdom. What I've learned lately is that I suck at relationships. And that testosterone seems to cause belly button lint.
I'm trying to pull myself together, so I'm going to a shrink next week. And I'm going to Rome next weekend, on a whim and an invitation from a stranger. Yeah, so I'm nuts and also somewhat extravagant.
When I was getting divorced, I discovered that was poorly individuated. I'm still really fuzzy around the edges. I need to be ok with being alone. I feel a little Peter Pan-ish. I appear to be about 19. I've never really been by myself. I'm perpetually a student . . .. I don't know what it means to be an adult, but it's time I got on with it.
At the same time as I'm having angst, I'm settling into London's queer scene which is large and friendly. I am not settling into the music scene as quickly, nor am I writing much. I understand it can be problematic to block out one's woes in bars, especially if one isn't getting much work done. But it's better than sitting home by myself having angst, right? If I'm not going to write anything, I might as well not write anything in Rome for a few days. It's all good until the money runs out.