Where did I go?

"The real reason I haven't been writing is that- I haven't been writing. It has burst upon me like a revelation. I do what I do, and I don't do what I don't do. I feel embarrassed by this, as if everyone on earth knows this except me. The way I write more is to turn on the computer, sit in front of it, and write." -Meg Barnhouse. Something happened recently (which I may or may not discuss on here) which leads me to think I need to blog more. And possibly learn to use my camera instead of my phone, since I never could figure out how to transverse the instagram-blogspot vortex. I need a place to write, to rant, to stretch out the scraps of thought in my mind and see if I've got a quilt, a collage, or just stuff that needs to go in the recycle bin. I could claim that things got very complicated; and they did to an extent. I have a toddler (who is sometimes less than well-mannered and gracious). I had an internship with what began as an amazing experiment in ecumenical community and, through miscommunication, split my whole world (and my friend-world) in half. I have applied for candidacy with my church, which is basically a learning internship... at the end of which, my congregation could decide to locally ordain me. This is complicated by the fact that I'm trying desperately to shift my sleep schedule so that I can make it to night classes at a massage school. I love massage already, don't get me wrong... but with everything else and my hypothyroid issues, I'm having a difficult time getting myself in gear and if I can't pull things out of the toilet somehow, I will not make my hours and will have wasted tuition. Which, I don't want to do... massage is like spiritual counseling through movement, and I wake up feeling happy-sore every morning after a good class session. I'm just at a place where I need someone to hold my hand and guide me back to where I need to be. There are also some very cool people in my class, who might be friends if I were around enough to know. On top of that, our landlords want us out of the house within the next 30 days; I have not one clue how that is going to happen. Our house is currently a wreck. The one house we looked at was dirty, had a human sized hole in the ceiling of the garage, and had dead animals everywhere.. including, charmingly, stuffed into a toy chimpanzee in the backyard. We were told this was used as a daycare center. I left with a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. Having written just that has been cathartic. My poor partner has to listen to me constantly since all my friends are either on the daytime schedule or one of the coasts, and I'm used to the friendly chatter that keeps thinking at a lull until I'm alone. As the one people person in the house, I'm currently almost always alone and it's driving me to the nail-biting, dry-mouthed brink of talking to my cat. Or creating an imaginary friend. If I don't talk to them in public, I'm totally not too old for one.. right? As for my son, like his height and his insatiable ability to get into trouble early on in life, his "terrible twos" have come on very quickly. He can (and will) say "no", "stop", "don't", "tlvh-hv", and "e-e-e"... oh, and "jedi". He smacks me, pulls my hair, refuses to let me feed him (Dad, of course, is the savior parent... since he built Tos cell-by-cell and risked his life to bring him into the world), kicks me, and refuses to play with me. So I've been unashamedly attempting to buy his love. The color-on-windows crayons were/are a HUGE hit and he seems particularly enamored of the "giant" green bouncy ball I got him. Wait until he figures out he can play with it outside! However, my little ginger-man seems to think these gifts come from the gift fairy, not the life-giving fairy. I can just hope this is a phase and once he moves from wanting to be carried all the time to wanting to actually play he will see me the way other small children have always seen me- like a glitter-sweating fairy gothmother with the imagination of a kid and the height of a tall 8 year old. On the other hand, the kid has a serious music addiction. Not only does he dance to anything, but he hums and will frequently repeat songs I've sung (not children's songs...if my kid is going to hear about the black plague, it's going to be through some metal band, not ring-around-the-rosie). In other news, I'm surrounded by blue jays. I'l blog on that next.