The Sleepy Stripper and other fuck ups

So mote it be.

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Well, that was embarrassing.

I have found that y’all love it when I admit my flaws and faults.

This was one of the hardest things I ever had to conquer. I don’t know at what stage in my early development I decided that making mistakes was the worst thing I could do, but I did.

I remember my first school project in grade 2. We were supposed to collect leaves, press them and name the trees we got them from.

I decided in my little 7 year old head my teacher would like it if I made it into a book. Everyone else had Bristol board. I remember feeling a massive amount of shame for not following the instructions. So much so that I am sitting on my bed in the cathouse recalling something that happened 36 years ago with alarming clarity.

I find myself often recalling one thing or another and inevitably stating ‘fuck, I gotta let that go’.

Some things slip into oblivion with ease, others not so much.

I can let the leaves go now. I was a creative and imaginative child. She was a good teacher.

And everyone makes mistakes. Me especially.

I messaged my manager today and apologized.

I hit a wall last night.

Not like a fist through drywall, although I did notice there is one upstairs and I wondered about it. I spent a lot of time upstairs last night and not in the good way.

You see dear readers, I failed to nap before work and ended up napping AT work.

Not cute and not classy.

There was whiskey involved.

There usually is.

I didn’t do a single dance and my stage shows were really lackluster.

The girls were sweet to me and checked on me, expressed concern. I do really like this new group of women I am surrounded by.

I think what happened is everything finally caught up with me.

I traveled 36 hours from home…pretty much because the universe told me to.

Now what?

I was speaking to my girl today. She lives in the wilds of Pennsylvania and we are both feeling a massive haboob. A desert storm without a desert, just swirling dust and no hope. The limbo, the void, the nothing.

The worst.

I am torn between shaking my fists at the gods and stomping my feet saying “I did the thing, now do yours” and having a nap right here.

I am tired, that journey took a lot out of me. It is time to admit it.

Add to it the chaos and magic and sadness between my last visit and coming back home.

I moved myself, my son, went to Florida and Mexico. Had the Giant, lost him and had him back. The Last One came and went and came back again. That Swain boy said he would come get me when I got to his island then I misplaced him too. My heart has taken a beating as of late.

I got a little lost on the way here, like actually lost.

I think that my life is following the same pattern, just on a slight delay.

My body is living in the future and my brain has yet to get here.

I don’t know what to do about the Last One. I feel detached almost. Like I am enjoying talking to him but I don’t trust that it is real or will ever come to fruition. And do I really want it to? Another one of my girls said maybe it was best if I didn’t bring my past with me into this future. And that sounds like truth. But he is so pretty.

My usual course of action is to look at the stars to see if there is any cosmic fuckery afoot, but Mercury is rather direct right now, so that ain’t it.

But I think I found something to explain what is happening, beyond the blatantly obvious going through a massive life change in February.

And that is part of it. We’re in the emptiness. Blue moon in January, Blue moon in March but the dreaded February? Not a thing.

This is a time to rest, the cosmos says so.

In a week it will be March, there will be the first of two full moons and the icy grip of February will lessen.

I know everything will become clear, like I know spring will come.

But in the meantime, I need a nap, then maybe some divine intervention.