A week

I've had a week in the new place, it's not getting any easier, it doesn't feel like a home. I'm trying though, every day trying to add to it, make it comfortable, or as comfortable as it can become. It's an apartment, and it's apparent that I'm not into social living. Hearing footsteps above my head, doors slamming and floorboard heaters. I can't bitch though, it's a nice little community. It's gated so the riff raft stay out. Had Guinness with me on Sunday night, came into work and got a phone call about 12:30 to tell me that he hadn't stopped barking since 6:00 am and I needed to take care of it. Of course, I rode the train in so it was a $70.00 cab ride back to my truck before I could go get him and take him back to the house. Bean stayed with me last night, and she's at the place today. I didn't repeat the mistake, I drove into work today so we'll see if I get a 12:30 phone call about her. It's nice having at least one of the dogs there when Jackson isn't. Talk about a hand full though when there's a dog to get outside while trying to get breakfast together for Jack and get him ready for the day. Gone, for now, are the days of just opening up the back door and sending the dogs out to potty while going on about the morning. That'll be nice to regain from an efficiency and ease of use perspective. At least when he's not there, it's easy to put on a leash and go for a small walk.

Been listening to Street Sweeper Social Scene and the new Incubus record. Digging on both records right now, especially the acoustic version of "A Certain Shade of Green" from the debut album, great version.

It's quite different when I'm the only heartbeat in that place, it's nice having something there that needs me and wants to be near me. God knows I don't even want to be near me at times, something I need to work out in a session. Life is a weird thing though, the things we do alone versus who we are with others. My grandma once told me "Who we are in the dark, where no one else see's us, is who we really are." Underneath all of that outward persona and the mask we choose to wear, can be a scary face to, um, face. I look in the mirror and ask all sorts of questions, sometimes answered, and sometimes the questions are harder to ask than are hearing the answers that you know inevitably you have to deal with. And of course, I have a really hard time letting go of the hurt, the loss, the grief. I talk about it in this blog all the time, the personal hand grenades that explode my heart and shatter my spirit, only just as a reminder that I am still here. Tougher than I knew, resilient to the point that the mask can come off long enough to let people in close enough to understand. No walls at this point in my life, I've kept them really high for so long that when they tumbled down this time, I don't want to rebuild them. I've worn my heart on my sleeves all these years and it makes no sense to try and hide it now.