-sometimes I miss the feeling of a porcelain bowl forming under my hands. Mostly not. The act of creation almost destroyed me, and I don't trust it.

-I still wish that I knew how to blow glass. But I lack the motivation to invest time in that. I have enough excuses in my life and unfinished projects.

-There are days I ache with wanting so much. I don't even fully understand what exactly it is that I want. But it hurts. Like a bone-deep bruise. And it floors me.

-I often put myself to sleep with stories that I tell myself. Sometimes I star in them, sometimes not. And I always convince myself that they are only meaningful to myself, and I won't share them. I get to keep these ones.

-when I re-read my dream journals from 10 years ago, I can still visualize the dreams themselves. I'm not sure if it's comforting or alarming to revisit these dreams.

-I am fearless when I cook. My mother raised me to play in the kitchen with food. My father is an excellent cook. It rubbed off, and I am very lucky.

-I can't be a pot head. It would be lovely, but all I ever want to do while stoned is eat salty foods, be alone and listen to Led Zeppelin. That is hardly related to productivity. I hate feeling like a 14 year old boy, and being that lazy.

-I have always wanted to travel, but am so very afraid of disappointment that I refuse to do it. It would be supremely heartbreaking if the destinations of my dreams weren't what I have fantasized about for years. And since this is inevitable, I stay home. And pine.

-the smell of violets reminds me of being a child. I had a doll with hair that smelled like violets. She was my favorite. Until her little head popped off.

-I used to cut pictures out of books and magazines in order to collect them. I added them to my paper doll collection, and fashioned elaborate and intricate stories about them. I regret the books, though. And wish that I had kept the dolls.

-I am grateful and honestly pleased not to be a mother. I have never desired motherhood. I have never been comfortable thinking of myself like that. I never imagined myself with children of my own. Never. I am grateful that I live in a time that allows me that choice. I needed it. I would've made a horrible, resentful and selfish mother. I am a fabulous aunt.

-I love to drive. I have always loved to drive. I wanted my license more than anything else. I wanted the freedom. I wanted the ability to go wherever I wanted without telling anyone. I loved having my own life, independent of my parents, and belonging only to me. The only restriction was gas money.

-intense privacy is one of my foundations. I don't share some things with anyone. I keep them. I dole out information on a strictly need-to-know basis for the most part. I don't trust that what I have inside will readily translate. The people I share most of my days with would not understand. I have let enough out of the bag to know this for certain. It's just not worth it.

The downside? Feeling inauthentic. That is hard. Harder than I would've expected. But with authenticity comes responsibility. That is another kettle o' fish entirely. Not sure if I'm up to that one. Not that I think it's important to be some kind of zen master or the like. But still- it's harder to compromise your ideals and personal institutions if you are being all adult-like and authentic. It's also harder to convince yourself that it really doesn't matter, and that none of it touches you. Because once you make that stance permanent, there you go.

So I guess this points to a general lack of commitment. Oh, my. Shying away from decisions. Oh, my. These are the words of nightmares. Indeed.

So taking the persona idea a bit further- there is the stress it induces. It's really part of life in general- there's always the strain of meeting expectations. Of being who you think that others expect you to be. That isn't new. It's just keeping it all straight that can be a little confusing. In my case, it slips sometimes. And then people give me 'the look'. It's usually amusement plus a bit of shock. They didn't expect what came out of my mouth. And I am generally a bit nonplussed. Because the control slipped. And that's not the most comfortable thing in the world. Small wonder I don't drink around my co-workers.

But it's more than that. It's the feeling of being the odd man out in a deeper sense. Like there is a subplot that I am totally missing. But then I realize how many of the people around me aren't all that deep. So the subplot isn't anything deep- it's more of an appearances thing. And yes, I am missing that. And that's just fine. I don't think it'll inflict lasting damage on my soul. Just a bit of discomfort. Which is also fine. Discomfort makes me explore things, and learn.

But I tell you what. I am not interested in several of my old personas. They have been retired for good. And that is a large comfort. The goal ultimately is to feel like I belong in my own skin. And that I like it there just fine. It's a work in progress.

I know that I've discussed personas before. It just keeps coming up. What is required and expected and from whom. It's complicated.

Work demands a certain me- usually good humored, and professional. Never the grumpy me. Never the bitter me. And certainly keeping the sense of humor well in check. They just wouldn't get it.

I should qualify that a bit. Work in this case = people in my immediate circle. There are others at work who know me differently, including the sense of humor fully intact. It's a big place. There are many circles.

Home demands something different and more authentic. Sometimes it is a strain to dump the work persona and be the person who is expected at home. Ditto with the friends and family in general. It is like unwrapping a package. Many layers of that clear tape with the fiberglass fibers in it. Not easy to cut through, and impossible to tear.

So in the morning, much like today, I gird myself with the armor, and get ready for the psychic wars that are work-related. That is overly dramatic- most of those occur at a level that I am oblivious of, by design. I have developed a thick skin when it comes to the kind of crap that develops at work- if it's not overt, I ignore it. I might know it's there, but I choose to ignore it until someone is open about it. Works fine for me so far.

And now I must go put on my professional face and face the madness.

I have been reminded today that I have apparently forgotten my blog out here. It's kind of funny really- not in a particularly ha ha way- that these words are just hanging out here, incomplete and just abandoned.

So there it is. I have been feeling very beaten down of late- it has been a long, cold, and difficult winter hereabouts. We have dealt with a heavy burden. Together, luckily, and I will always be thankful for that. But it has seen death of two family members, a very sick big kitty, a nasty head cold or two, job travails that continue to annoy, two trips to Montana, distractions provided by an overloaded basement full of boxes, and plenty of other day to day things.

But I am nothing if not a Fire Horse (according to Chinese Astrology). Fire horse girls were traditionally exposed at birth, as they were trouble. That sounds accurate enough. But also, there is a bit of the fire burning in the belly that I can't attribute to whatever I have eaten. And therefore, I won't let it all get me to that place of utter despair. So I keep moving. Just keep moving.

Part of that process has been a total re-evaluation of a lot of things. I took about 8 boxes of old stuff to the goodwill yesterday as part of this process. I donated a bunch of art supplies to the high school in my Mother's small hometown as part of this process. It's important to me to examine all of this and decide what I want to carry forward in my life, and what it's acceptable to leave behind.

While liberating, the aforementioned process is difficult. I am trying to be relatively gentle about it, but there are regrets. Mostly regrets for past behaviors and the ability to just carry around a bunch of shit I don't either need or want. And the thought that it was all very important to me once upon a time. This leads me to believe that the things that are currently very important to me will likely face a similar fate some day. That is a hard-earned but good piece of perspective.

On other fronts, I have been trying to heal my sad and heart-sick husband through cooking. I am an excellent cook. Just let it get out of habit for a while. I learned how to roast a chicken. Then I learned how to use that chicken for chicken soup- I made up a recipe that is now demanded with some frequency. So I suppose that is a hit. Then I made up a chicken enchilada recipe that is also in high demand. It'll get made tonight. The effort has made him a bit happier, and we understand what he needs a bit better.

So in summation, it has been a season of growth, despite all of the blows. I would rather not have had these learning "opportunities", mainly because they have come at a tremendous cost. But there isn't a box for me to check that will allow for a do over. It's done. Pactum Factum.