Every year without fail, something happens that screws up my Novembers.
Unfortunately, Novembers are also National Novel Writing Months.
I’m just feeling lost again, adrift and not sure what I want to do or be or go.
I’m just tired.
And still somewhat deeply unhappy that I still can’t have what I really want.
But until I get out of this dark phase, I’ll just find solace in Pilates and singing.

James Morrison – You Make It Real For Me
There’s so much craziness surrounding me,
There’s so much going on it gets hard to breathe
When all my faith has gone you bring it back to me,
You make it real for me
Well I’m not sure of my priorities,
I’ve lost sight of where I’m meant to be
And like holy water washing over me,
You make it real for me
And I am running to you baby,
You are the only one who saves me
That’s why I’ve been missing you lately,
‘Cause you make it real for me
When my head is strong, but my heart is weak,
I’m full of arrogance and uncertainty
When I can’t find the words, you teach my heart to speak,
You make it real for me
And I am running to you baby,
You are the only one who saves me
That’s why I’ve been missing you lately,
‘Cause you make it real for me
Everybody’s talking in words I don’t understand,
You got to be the only one, who knows just who I am
And you’re shining in the distance,
I hope I can make it through
Cause the only place that I want to be is right back home with you
I guess there’s so much more I have to learn,
But if you’re here with me, I know which way to turn
You always give me somewhere, somewhere I can learn,
You make it real for me
And I am running to you baby,
Cause you are the only one who saves me
That’s why I’ve been missing you lately,
‘Cause you make it real for me
You make it real for me

…for everything I put you through.

I give up.

I’m tired.

Sick of it, weary of caring, just too damn strained.

I remember Karcy commenting that nothing seems to affect me as much as my relationships.

So it’s really no suprise that I crumpled into a sobbing wreck when the boyfriend said that after he’d made sure I was settled, taken care of, financially secure and safe from harm and persecution…we’d part ways.

And then he spent the next hour attempting to convince me he was just kidding.

Then after I’m somewhat composed, I call up a friend who I was supposed to see (until I got waylaid by stupid boyfriend’s joke) and friend is all concerned, even offers to bring chocolate.

Perfect. So I think some good might come out of this night…until it starts to rain and friend pleads for rain check because it’s a nice rainy night to sleep in, and I would have agreed if it wasn’t the fourth fucking time we rescheduled.

I just said, “OK, I’m not calling you anymore. Next time you want to hang out, it’s going to be you calling because I just can’t take being put aside anymore.”

I know it’s not supposed to be personal.
But how am I not supposed to take it personal when you say you’d rather sleep in than come over?

Don’t set me up to hope and then dash my tiny expectations to shreds.

I’m feeling whiny, emo and generally belligerent towards the Y-bearing members of humanity. Exceptions being my father, brothers, Wrimos. And one amoeba.

So I’m working from home and taking a break (one of many, hur hur) by reading the all-funny Dooce.

And Heather’s telling a story about her brother giving money to a homeless man. I get to thinking that, gee, sounds like something the boyfriend would do.

One of Heather’s commenters said it best about these people who have no qualms about giving to the needy:

“Your brother has gotten what very few of us have figured out…charity, compassion, giving isn’t about caring what they do with it or asking for thanks. It’s about doing it and knowing you did what you could.”

I do argue with the boyfriend about being a soft touch, very quick to opening his wallet.

I say, don’t give to Malaysian beggars because it’s all a syndicate. These people are smuggled in and are ‘professional’ beggars. We’re funding a ring of evil people.

“But what if they don’t take money back? What if they get beaten or something?”

And he gives money to the beggars anyway.

Because he’s so kind, he gets dozens of email requests from family, acquaintances, acquaintances of acquaintances.

My son, he needs money for school.

My father, he needs medicine.

My sister, she wants to take a course.

Watching him go through his inbox, I wonder how he manages not to get angry or saddened by all these emails from people who all want something from him.

But all he does is shrug. They ask because they must.

There are days though, that he gets frustrated not because of all the demands on his time or wallet but his ability to do well in his studies. It’s not easy trying to juggle his hectic life and I just say to him, Just do what you can. The best you can.

And he tries. He tries so hard and sometimes, he gets despondent feeling it’s not enough. But it never stops him from trying.

In some ways, he’s the silliest man I know. But he’s also the kindest, the least complicated and whenever he says, “I’ll do my best,” he means it.

Faith as simple as a child’s and an earnest desire to do good and be good. I guess I couldn’t ask for more.