tuned in and turned on

Time is strange lately. There's excitement in the air, but anxiety, too. Anxiousness. It feels hopeful, still I'm having a hard time getting any work done. I've getting a fair amount of writing done, that feels good, but I'm having a hard time getting my forty hours in. It's closer to thirty-five, which is a constant struggle to reach. Thirty-five is a good amount of hours, but most of the rest of my time is spent on the upcoming election, reading blogs, watching Jon Stewart at his website and other stuff like that. You know, the real news. It's a very exciting time in the world. Tonight I'm spending two hours at a stranger's house with ten other people making "Calls for Change" at an Obama Phone-a-thon. I love bing alive in this historic time!

I'm going to Nashville this coming weekend. I'm taking four or five days off from work. That's what gives me a sense of urgency, a need to work more now, to make up for lost time before the fact. That's the great thing about my job, the flexibility. It's not just about the money I need to make; it's about the time security, the something to do, part of my ritual. I get sort of antsy when my schedule is interrupted. And I'm totally neurotic about my cat. There better be a good reason for dragging me away from my cat and my life and my work and my regular checkups on the media elite coverage of the '08 Election.

Well, there is. It's a boy with a capital B. If I could stand living in Nashville again, I would for him, or if I could talk him into moving here for me, I would. But I can't.

I'm sure B has a TV -- who doesn't, right? I hope I don't get sucked into that, into all the shows he invariable has to watch, like everybody. The Amazing Race, Lost, shows I've never even seen. The other day S said we oughta look for a crappy little TV so we can watch debates and stuff. But I know how I am. I'd like to say I wouldn't get stuck in front of a TV ever again, but it's bound to happen. TVs are evil; they suck you in and destroy your brain!

So I'm going to assume there will be some TV watching, which I'm powerless to resist. --Well, that's not completely true; it takes a lot of work to resist it, and I have the ability to do so, but I wouldn't want to be rude by going out to the patio or yard to smoke and write while B watches his shows. Though I will take my writing implements and keep that option available.

That's another thing: the smoking. Another thing to keep in mind, the probability that I will smoke more while I'm in Nashville. B smokes, so it just seems to reason that I will. I'm not smoking right now -- I quit for a while, a few days or a couple weeks, between pouches (not packs) that I buy, just to take a break. I'm not going to set a goal to resist or to smoke out, I'm simply going to try to be myself. And will take my favorite brand and my little rolling machine.

It may be an unrealized fantasy I'm walking into here. B and I had sex twice. There's definitely an attraction there, or there was three years ago. But maybe his interest in allowing me to visit him now is more platonic in his mind. I don't want to set myself up for disappointment; I've done that before and don't much like it.

I'm not blaming R (on the contrary), but my relationship with R caused some dis-ease in me, some mental illness, I have to be careful about relapses. I recognize that it's there -- so that's a good step, but god-damn it, why does it have to exist at all? "Have to." That's funny. It doesn't "have to."

But still.

I've lost my place. I wanted to come here and write something completely different, something humorous about my cat, or about my neuroses related to leaving my cat behind while I go out of town. Maybe later. But instead, this.

I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open any longer.