Hello, It's Me

It's time to come back.

I posted this photo to persuade you that I have spent the last few months lounging at some generic resort in Palm Springs, tanning myself to leathery proportions, drinking alcoholic frozen beverages and reading copious trash biographies about wastrel celebrities. I'd love to be doing that. But I'm not.

I'm working nonstop, upwards of 60 hours a week. I live in a wonderful suburb in New Jersey but I'm dealing with a 120 year old house that falls apart daily. I live with two dogs who provide me a great deal of love but present challenges themselves. I haven't had a vacation in a year. I am dating a man who is ten years older than me and who wants everything I don't want. I don't love him, but he doesn't seem to understand this despite that fact I have communicated this to him in several languages (including his native dialect of Jersey City). I still deeply miss Fang. He passed away 18 months ago and I feel like a piece of me died when he did. That's an old cliche, but it does feel as if a hunk of my flesh, like a festering wound, has instilled itself in me and it won't heal. I accept a portion of life will never be the same again and i mourn than. I miss that.

I have devoted much of my adult life to work and as my friend Hollabeck once said, "Work will never love you back." No, it won't. But I have to support myself. The politics, drama, Machiavellian nonsense of every job I've ever had at work still exists. Only the geography has changed.

I need an outlet and Facebook won't suffice. I need the gorgeous freedom of this safe place.So I'm coming back. I hope you'll read this and moreso, offer me the advice I clearly need.