I’m bad behavior but I do it in the best way
The subtitle is from a Fallout Boy song but this isn’t an imaginary conversation with Pete Wentz. I don’t feel like talking to that guy. I think we’d just wind up yelling. Not necessarily in a bad way, I’m just not in the mood.
I guess I’m all in on my own mid-life crisis. In keeping with all the profound weirdness that has made up my entire life, the universe seems to be solidly in favor of me throwing in the towel on all practical considerations and running off to be “an artist.”

It definitely helps that I did so well on all the practical considerations up to this point. It’s easy for people to be enthusiastically supportive when your last-ditch, “the world has gone to the shitter,” end-game backup plan is to sell your big-ass house in a very expensive part of the country and go back to being a lawyer in a cheaper part of the country.
Someone asked me recently if I’m ever afraid of anything. I said of course and started listing things that could hurt me, like giant unknown dogs and that massive earthquake people up here keep saying is due any day (good job, self, you traded one impending “big one” for a new, unknown one) and just the economy and politics in general. But I’m not really afraid of failure because for me failure just isn’t that bad.
My “holy crap I’m a complete failure” mode is some people’s fondest dream.
It turns out that when the career that gave you a breakdown is “assistant federal public defender” people don’t really see you as some unhinged wastrel. It’s more like “fallen hero” shit.
I don’t have to worry about mundane things like gaps in my resume or somehow saying something that would embarrass potential future employers. If being an academic/novelist doesn’t work out, I can just go back to doing what I used to do. I might have to wait a bit and possibly move to find a position, but nothing I do here will render me “unemployable.”
It’s not the possibility of failure that scares me. (well, maybe a little. I am human, after all)
It’s the possibility of success.
My life has always been a little unusual. Lately it’s crossed over into SURREAL.

I’ve started reading Seanan McGuire again. It seemed appropriate considering I walk about feeling like I’ve slipped into a faerie mound or maybe I’m just a changeling, who the fuck even knows any more.
But what if this isn’t an October Daye situation?
What if I’m meant to be Georgia Mason? (minus the zombies, unless someone is working on that)
What if I found my Shaun? (minus the sex though because EW)
What if I don’t want to burn the world to the ground, just set it on fire a bit?
What if I did something crazy, not stupid?
What if?
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Lonely No More
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