Curveballs

Unfortunately, having things fall into place involves just that: Falling.

This past week has been harder than any other week I’ve had here – I’ve got glandular fever, my job is on shaky ground, my social security number got lost in the post, and apparently so did my drive.

Right now I’m sitting on my bed, probably at the bottom of a well, and listening to For Emma, Forever Ago wondering how the fuck I got through it at all. And, in saying that, I’m not even sure it’s over yet.

The clichéd idiom of when it rains, it pours couldn’t be more exact at this moment and I’m desperate not to let my flame go out. At present, it’s flickering, dim.

I just got off the phone to a worried friend. While chatting, I reminded him (and myself) that while life continues to throw curveballs at me, I tend to catch them. Sometimes not on the full and sometimes not without broken fingers, but I catch them.

I’m wading through possibly useless metaphors and phrases trying to motivate myself, but hey, at least I’m trying.

I’ve convinced myself, however, that this is the process. This is the necessary suffering. This is that fucking Bell Jar I forecast in my first entry. It’s here.

So things are, in fact, falling into place. Falling. 

For now, I will do my best to enjoy the plunge and hope the ground-shock doesn't break my ankles.