I should have learned by now to not write while I'm in the midst of a mood swing, be it pleasant or otherwise. The other day when I wrote, I was on a high of sorts. Everything seemed at least fairly right with the world. This evening, the opposite seems to be the case.
And I should know better than to write now, as I should have known better then.
But I don't know better.

I'll start by saying- I know it could be worse...

A friend of mine shot himself this week. He was a regular at The Brook. He was my age. He used to come in quite often. I still have pictures of him and Sue (my friend, and the old cook) on my phone. He was fun, crazy, cute, sweet. He was always making us laugh. His smile was infectious. And yet, he was also somehow just a little bit lost. PTSD, failed relationships, life in general... Him and I used to swap relationship horror stories; he was so easy to talk to.
I just saw him last Friday. I was so glad to see him, it had been a little while since he had been in. We talked for a bit, caught up, joked around. But, he still had that far away look in his eyes.
And yesterday at work, someone was throwing the name around, saying that someone by that name had shot themselves. And I said aloud- No, it wasn't him, it wasn't our Matt. And then I left work, and didn't think of it again.
Sara (my cook) told me this morning.
Like everyone else, I'm still in shock.

And so, I know, it could be worse.

I bought a VW Jetta, knowing it may need tranny work. Turns out, it does. Although I was prepared to spend the money in order to get it going, it still feels like I rolled the dice and shouldn't have. Somewhere right now my Dad is telling me- I told you so (with additional colorful phrases).
And Mom's excursion that I'm driving until I can get the Jetta registered and on the road, as it turns out, is a death trap. Two ball joints that are evidently so bad that they're going to break at any moment. I said- What's the big deal? The answer- Um, you know, those are the things that keep your tires on straight. The shop told me to take it home and park it.
But, I still need to get around, and so I'm still driving it. Hey, at least it's a giant tank, so I'll survive when it drives me off the road.

The band is defunct.
And I was supposed to play at my (other) favorite bar tonight and tomorrow night. The old Bucksport stomping ground. I was so looking forward to that.
After we parted ways with the lead guitarist, and then picking up a potential replacement, our rhythm player got done too because of a work conflict. And I am not interested in starting from scratch all over again. Already this feels like too much work. This is why I "retired" from music so long ago. It became more work than it was worth. Bitter Grace- the band that never was.
How very ironic, considering it was the catalyst to the end of my marriage.
But, was it for a reason? Oh, who fucking knows. The funk I'm in tonight is so thick that I'm having a hard time finding reason for anything.

Relationships are complicated. There's always something making it so. There's, always, something. Children, schedules, work, friends, obligations, distance.. characteristics, direction, fundamentals, differences...
I want things to work seamlessly. I don't like doubt or the unknown. I don't want complications. I want that easy button from the Staples commercials.
It's probably no coincidence that I'm a third time divorcee.

I was so excited to have the house to myself this weekend. Mom is in Portland at my sister's. Dogs are gone too. Come home, get dinner, put on pajamas, watch tv, be lazy...
It's overrated. Turns out alone time is just that- alone.

This is definitely not where I thought I'd be at this point in my life.