Oblivion Is Just Too Boring

Another two weeks with nothing really interesting to report. The time has been taken up mostly with putting together the chamber of commerce directory. It's been a longer process this year, since I decided to forgo working in columns, which means making each spread, each page, a design on its own, and yet congruent throughout the book.

Of course, the directory portion is in columns; kind of hard to create linear, alphabetized entries without having them fall into rows. But the front of the book is all open, with lots of negative space. I like it. More important, so does Paul at the chamber, who signs the checks.

I met with Kelly (the powerhouse of the chamber who seems to make everything go) last Friday. She is heading up proofing the back of the directory and coordinating ad sales (which, thankfully, are closed now, although Kelly slipped a full-page ad in under the wire and Paul added one today). 

At our meeting, I told her that the front of the book would be done tomorrow (the 21st). She called back on Monday and said Paul needed it on Wednesday, so the last couple days have been working like mad to get as much done as possible. I handed off the PDF of the front at 3 p.m. on Wednesday, and Paul stopped by today with the corrections they'd done.

We went over the corrections and revisions up in the office this afternoon, and Paul said he would be more than willing to have me design the book next year from La Crosse (I did not ask; he offered). "We do it all by e-mails now anyway," he said. At least I know this chunk of work will follow me across state lines.

Meanwhile, my mental condition has been going this way and that. I talked with my friend Vena, whose husband died in September. I was on the phone with her last night (Kittie was over there visiting, so I got to talk to both of them), and Vena was very open about us being in the same boat. Talking to her, I realized that I still cry a lot (a couple times a day, though for only a minute or two), that I'm lonely and sad most of the time, and that I am pitifully unable to enjoy being alone. 

And although I don't consider myself suicidal, there are at least two mornings a week when I wake up with the thought "I just want to die" at the front of my mind. On bad mornings I might even say it aloud. Then my eyes open, the cat is sitting up on the bed, waiting for me to rise, go downstairs and get her breakfast. Once I collect myself, stretch out the stiff muscles and head down the stairs, I'm feeling better, focusing on what the day will bring. 

The one time in my life I seriously considered a suicidal thought (a winter evening in 1972 in Ithaca, New York, when I had nowhere to be), I ended up thinking, "Fuck 'em; I won't give them the satisfaction, they're not worth it." In a few days I was in Syracuse, spending the holidays with an aunt I never met, Aunt Kit, who ended up sharing the last few decades of her life living with my mother.

And with all those mornings waking up wanting "to die," I have never expended any mentation on just how I would do it; the thought never goes that far before I'm fully conscious. It was only a week ago that I realized if I committed suicide, I'd have to leave a note, and I would never stoop to write such a whiny, self-pitying or even explanatory tome. 

Then I had a realization about that little voice that grumbled, "I want to die," as I awoke. It was really saying, "I don't want to live." There's a big difference, because you can be alive and never live, but dead is dead.

And that's agoraphobia: being alive but not living. Existing without leaving a mark. That's just fucked up. Steve was the one who always kicked me in the ass when I wanted to give in to my agoraphobia, and that's one of the millions of things I miss about him. Another is doing the dishes after I make dinner. I've gotten good at keeping up with the dishes on my own, so I'm sure, with a little practice, I can kick myself in my own ass.

Working on the directory has really helped me to feel better in the last couple weeks, but sitting in front of the computer for too long is not good for my back, so I have started putting an hour and a half on my phone's timer, so that I don't sit at the computer for longer than that. A ten-minute break is all I need to keep the muscles from cramping up.

I just got the good news that Kittie and Dave are coming down for Thanksgiving, which means I've got to get a turkey this weekend. They came down for Thanksgiving 2012, and that was when David discovered Punkin Chunkin on the science channel (people design machines and try to hurl pumpkins the farthest). After about two hours of it, Steve got irritated and asked Dave to turn on something else. Afterward, he said, "No more Punkin Chunkin ever." It was one of the few times I knew him to be so inflexible, but the stuff really bugged him.

During one of the many times Dave came down on the weekend and helped with the remodel and keeping me sane, I told him that I would rescind the edict. "You can watched Punkin Chunkin as much as you want." So when Kittie mentioned on the phone while with Vena that they might come down, I checked out when Punkin Chunkin would air. I recorded Punkin Chunkin 2013 this evening, and the show from this year will be airing on Saturday after Thanksgiving, so Dave is guaranteed at least four hours of gourd-hurling fun.

And I have a suspicion that we will be digging through the packed boxes downstairs to find stuff that we need to make Thanksgiving dinner, as I packed thinking there would be no holiday celebrations again this year. I'm beginning to realize that the universe happens the way it wants, offering us choices much like Schrodinger's cat got. We're just vain enough to think we're making all those life decisions by ourselves.

Looking at it that way, God seems like a logical conclusion.