XVII: Transmissions and Omissions

Today has been a weird nothing of a day. In contrast to the work I did trying to design the future yesterday, I have been relatively idle and reflective today.

Not completely inactive -- I did some writing for my blog/Patreon, so that's technically paid writing. But the day's kind of passed and I'm like "Oh. Don't feel like I've done much."

The hard part of the day is actually being in a state of readiness. When will Mel be able to have lunch and does it coincide with my own desired mealtime? Today the answer was no. I whipped up some egg salad, waited a while for her to say she was ready to eat, fed myself, then eventually heard that no, she was too occupied. And in that readiness, I don't tend to start anything because I don't want to feel distracted. There's like a 3-hour block some days from when I start getting hungry for lunch until I know that all of us has been fed where I just can't do anything. 

That's a 'me' problem, but aren't they all?

There isn't actually that much to say that wasn't covered yesterday, but today I was reflecting on the early years of this blog and my life. I was remembering a time when I was walking down the street heading for Tim Hortons and I was spotted by my friend Alyssa and she picked me up and we went for coffee and chat. And in my head that happened multiple times but this blog only attests to the once, and it would know because I was writing a lot back then. Now if only I could remember what was said! As a 17-18 year old, I'm curious what any of my conversations sounded like, whether I had anything to talk about. I remember one or two interesting convos from back then but I was still kind of crawling out of my primordial mind, figuring out how to have thoughts let alone express them.

Hm.

I had this thought that if there was one period in my life where I was to Quantum Leap into my own body, knowing I couldn't change the outcome of anything, it would probably be that Spring. That last semester of high school. High School was mostly crap for everybody and I am far from the exception, but for maybe the last six months, I was in a groove. People seemed to like me. I liked myself. I had folks around me to soften the blow of being rejected by one of my previously closest friends. I felt inspired and invigorated. I wasn't necessarily dying for female attention (although there was one just-too-late ships-in-the-night girl at the end of Grade 12, but even then going back would mean that at least I could savor our brief time as friends-who-may-be-mutually-crushing.) It didn't suck. The whole year mostly didn't suck, but it definitely breaks in two halfway, and that second half had a lot of bearing on who I became later.

The rest of the time since is all a blur, a lot of down stuff and a lot of life passing me by. Maybe I would go back and try to appreciate my twenties more, but without the ability to rewrite them, I'm not sure why. I don't think there's another period after that where I would really want to go back so I could enjoy it all over again until after we moved to Burlington and got into our nice little suburban rhythm. Things have not always been perfect here but life has been good. (2018 and especially 2019, living in our little place in the sky, was also OK, but not totally undramatic. Something about our relationship really leveled up after we said our vows and got our space.)

So that's kind of where my head's at today, with nothing major going on. Tomorrow might be more of a writing day, and then of course Mel going to the city on Thurs and possibly Fri, which will give me ample opportunity to do whatever it is I do when I have time.

I still feel like I wish I had a day job to slack off from, to help structure my day and give me a reason to need to escape, which enabled me to do so much of my own stuff for those productive years. I alluded to some remote data entry jobs I applied to the other day, and my hope is to get a job where I can spend a few hours per day lollygagging as long as I produce enough for them.

Hm. Hm.

Well, keep on rockin'

-Scotto

XVI: The Unique and the Universal

Who am I going to be in my 40's?

It's not a question I have actively thought about but I guess it's been buzzing around the background. I'm just about a month away from my 39th birthday. The hair's getting gray, the beard has a lot of salt in the pepper, the face is a bit craggy. It's pertinent to think about the future and about the passage of time. Although truth be told I didn't think, when I loaded up this post a minute ago, that was where my mind was going to go.

I guess the reason for this train of thought can be dated back to my farewell message when I quit Indigo, which I re-read not that long ago. In it, I alluded to designing what the next phase of my life was going to look like. But the truth is, I haven't really designed or built shit. I have dilly-dallied, I've played, I've applied for the jobs I can expect of myself. I don't think I've been idle but I have been more idle than most people.

Mel and I had a talk, albeit not a serious one, yesterday, over coffee at Williams'. She mentioned a conversation she had with Rielle when they went to dinner last week, where Ri asked if she had me on any kind of a timeline, and she said not really, but that maybe a check-in might be due. She doesn't ask questions about what I do during the day and she knows I tell her when I apply for jobs ("When I apply for jobs I'm excited about," I clarified.)

We know what it looks like when I work for the sake of work, and it's actually quite negative for quality of life. My point has always been, I quit Indigo for a reason, and if I just wanted "a job," I wouldn't have left. My dream isn't a job or a career but a work-style. To be home, to be able to support her, and to make some reasonable contribution. I know that compromises have to be made, but for a certain amount of money I would do really basic shit.

Alas. Getting even basic shit jobs is hard these days. I was never, ever deluded about how tough it would be to re-enter the workforce once I left Indigo, but it was all about peace of mind and well-being. I don't think I have to justify this to anyone, but it does sort of sum up where I'm at, where I'm going, and how I got here. How we got me here.

As I work on my various things, I have gotten back to applying for jobs. I mentioned I was particularly interested in a data entry position. That raised eyebrows because it seemed unambitious, but I mentioned it was a remote job and that would allow me to continue to focus on my development. I've applied for some other stuff too but I do think my prospects are dim, which brings me to...

I sent a sample script to an agent today.

I'll give some backstory, but there really isn't any. Back in December, I was having a day where I felt very much like I do today, where it was hopeless and that I was destined to be declined in my quest for a Joe Shit Job. So I started looking around to see if there were writing agents that took submissions, and I found one. I decided to write a script, based on an idea that came to me shortly thereafter, which is very weird and wry but it makes me laugh. The thing kind of lingered in the back of my mind however. I couldn't quite get it up to submit. The thing that tripped me up was that I needed to include a CV with it, and I was like "Oh, I'd have a CV if I were a real writer, but I'm not, and they won't want me." Not that I intended that to be the end of it, but I did let it fall by the wayside for a few months. Then today, feeling low and down, I decided fugg it, what do I have to lose? I whipped up a CV that basically said "Here's who I am and here's who I'm about" and sent it on it. What's the worst they can do, reject me?

Actually, maybe the worst they can do is accept me. Because my dirty little secret has always been that I'm scared to death of success. Success is not easy. Success is hard work that begets hard work and I would so rather drift in an uncomplicated life where I can be free to support my partner and not do the legwork required to have some kind of writing career. I know I can write, but can I be a writer? Or am I somehow too neurotic?

Hm. Hmmm.

Well, whatever. I'm doomed either way so I might as well die in an attempt to be myself.

I honestly don't know if quality is enough to make it to the top. I do know that in a lot of worlds, sellability is what does it. You need to be marketable. Even if you're just marketing yourself to some exec who might hire you to plug a hole in the headcount, you know? And I've always been a weird shaped peg.

So if they're looking for something good they might like me, because of all the things people say about my writing people very rarely tell me it's not good. And I've only gotten better since Half-Past.

So when I talk about who I'm going to be in my 40's, it really is all about designing life. Maybe this is when I bloom. We also have our fertility project. That's been a whole thing, but hasn't it always? We signed on with a new agency, but not without some drama, because in dealing with us some things were said that really got under Mel's skin because naturally and not-wrongly she's sensitive about the issue and our story. There was some back and forth but eventually we did sign on, so we're set to start working on our profile and enter their pool.

That was another thing of conversation with Rielle, where she was like "Oh, you don't get to sleep and you lose freedom" and all that, and yeah, we're aware, but there's truly no going back on this now. We decided years ago that this was what we wanted and we have pursued this path with single-minded dedication. Because we're ready to make those sacrifices and end the part of our lives where we're not parents.

It's been five years since we started.

It hurts just thinking about it.

Anyway. I really thought this was going to be a normal "Here's what the last few weeks have been like" kind of post. It's been a bit of a blur since Easter, a lot of hanging around the house watching whatever on TV. Mel finished her vacation and started her new project(s) and surprise surprise she's stressed. She's assured me though that she likes her job and that stress is just part of it. And part of me is like "Who would you be if you had a normal job anyway?" A normal relationship with work.

Beyond that it's just a bunch of quotidian stuff, waiting for the weather to get good enough to do something outside. She went to the city last Thursday and that left her feeling zapped (which is when she saw Rielle,) and now she's going again this week, for another dinner, and she might even go the following day, which is a yellow flag to me. And I'm just here in la-la land, farting around, wringing a few dimes out of my writing.

Huh.

Like, who am I? Who will I be?

We're no closer to knowing.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto

XV: Why dirty a dish?

It's funny how mornings go. I get up around 8:30 and I need to chill for a bit, and then Hankey needs to be fed, then by the time I've chilled sufficiently, he needs a walk. By now, it's 10:58 and I haven't done anything meaningful with my time. Hank gave me the sulky eye when I moved from the couch to the computer. How dare I.

This wouldn't be a problem -- and arguably it's not now -- but Mel's still on vacation, meaning she'll be setting the agenda for the rest of the day, so whether that means cleaning or doing our taxes or other necessary bits of business. I don't have a problem with that, it just means there's a limited window for me to do "whatever it is" I "feel like doing." Which apparently right now is this.

Mel finished her project on the 31st as scheduled, and had a bit of a send-off, and then the next few days were vacay. We did some cleaning in our room and around the house, and we took her to get her long-delayed blood test for her physical. It's kind of been weird wonky times, because our routine is off, meaning meals seemingly happen at random and we never know what it's going to be, unless it's something that was planned. Friday was of course Good Friday; I woke up and realized we had a workout scheduled at 1, just getting Mel up in time. Then after some cleaning and listening to some audiobook, I went and put in our order for fish n' chips, which took 90 minutes, unsurprisingly. Since I put the order in right at 6 (after we got home from walking Hank) it wasn't too late, although maybe getting there a half-hour to an hour earlier would have been preferable. After putting in the order I came home, watched Hot Bench for a bit then went back. The fish was good.

Saturday was Easter at Mel's family, which was a long day with lots of food, toddlers, and Laura pregnancy stuff. They finally revealed the sex of the baby, with an improvised gender reveal egg thing. I had a lot of feelings, which had nothing to do with Laura and everything to do with where we're at in our journey, including the most recent setbacks and speedbumps. It's hard not to feel the weight of it all sometimes, especially when it's seemingly going so easily for someone else.

We had left Hank with Dad and Deb, always thankful to have them to drop him off with.

Sunday morning, we did the Easter egg hunt, one for Mel and one for Hank. Hank needed some assistance but I think he had fun. Mel required little to no assistance. I then went and got us some Breakfast from Pur & Simple. The woman at the counter asked how my day was going so far. I'm picking up Eggs Benedict at 1:30 PM, so... good, probably?

That evening was dinner at my mom's, which promised to not be nearly so dramatic. It was the usual chill time sitting with the guys, heckling the TV, talking shit about the family and spilling other tea. We brought some pastries that we ascribed to splurging while picking up cannoli for Mel's fam; in actuality we had just bought a lot of desserts. Also, the grocery store sure was a madhouse, but I had neglected to pick up some essentials before Good Friday (which led to the bizarre, rare situation of us running out of cheese for cheese n' chips on Thursday night. Luckily we did have jalapeno jack, for mine at least.)

The meal of prime rib was good, (and much hyped as seemingly everyone asked what we were up to the next day on Saturday) but for whatever reason when we got home we felt like ordering a cheese pizza from Ginos, which is something we do some nights. Usually I go pick it up cheap but because of the late hour we had to have it delivered, which increased the price. This after the previous night ordering some movie popcorn on a whim. We had started watching a movie on Netflix only to find it kind of dull, so we switched to Talladega Nights, which we had bought from Value Village.

Realizing now that very little of that movie takes place at night.

Hank's being needy, so I'll wrap by saying. Weather has been inconsistent, sometimes cold, some rain, some sun, some wind. Kitchen needs three cleanings. Yadda yadda. Job search, courses.

Keep on rockin'

-Scotto