In the words of Jinkx Monsoon, the phrase of this evening - as it must be, sometimes - is "Water off a duck's back" (to be repeated as needed, which seems to be an awful lot lately).
One of those personal problems one doesn't blog about in public (if one is a little old lady who still prizes, inordinately, the treasure and concept of privacy), which has been doing that silent looming thing so many of the more unspeakable issues in life like to do, is approaching a possible denouement I both desire and find absolutely terrifying.
People are still unemployed. People I love, and cannot help.
Other people are trapped, frustrated, angry, and hurting. Others are just hurting - and, by "just" in this instance, sadly we mean they are unfortunately self-absorbed.
This person has little to offer anyone, an unfortunate circumstance given that "may I bring satisfaction and joy" is a chief prayer in my life. It's one thing to lack satisfaction of my own; it's another thing entirely to watch the people I love most unable to grasp it.
Earlier this evening I didn't get a certain agent, and it bums me out.
I succumbed to dread, irritation, and sadness - but life doesn't offer the luxury to indulge this for long. Tomorrow is another (golden, eighty-degree) day. I'm sucking it up.
I'm soldiering on.
Thank goodness for the wisdom of a drag queen. "Water off a duck's back." They're designed to shed the stuff - even float across it. Surely I'm this ingeniously made ...
I'm off to wield a butter knife. See y'all soon, with more relevant posts.
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