In a Haze

Our apartment still is abundant with the wholesome fragrance of cigarette smoke. We don't smoke. I really like how my life is turning out these days. I really like all the decisions I made in the last few months. I really like myself right now. I really just want to give up. Again. Because that's the only thing I am good at. They say your sense of smell holds powerful memories. Mine just sends me spiraling until it chokes my sense of self-worth.

Update:

Laughing instead of crying at the world is done when you report the smell of neighbors smoke in your apartment and the reply email asks: "Is the type of smoke cigarette or marijuana?" Whoa. Slow down there buckaroo! This question implies that you think most people know the smell of something that is supposedly illegal. Not even mildly illegal but like schedule 1 lock-me-up-in-jail illegal. Tell me if I'm wrong, but I find this presumptious juxtaposition between reality and legality pretty gosh darn hilarious. But no, it is definitely cigarette. Also, you're "quick question" is implying that I might smoke the other if your documentation is that precise. So yeah, I wanted to remind you that I brought up the issue Einstein. You'd think I'd be more discerning if I smoked anything NOT to say anything about smells at all. Cue copious eye rolls. And yet I'm just here giggling in the dark thinking about burning a shit ton of incense to see what happens....

probably nothing. Story of my life. But I'm laughing. I swear. It might be bitter and sarcastic as hell, but the noise leaving my mouth is happy.

Getting Around: Between a Chevy and a Ford place

Gratitude for freedom of movement has been painting my whole day in color.

We haven't had a car for over a week (old one died outright and new one has to be fixed already) and it's been okay. I didn't know I missed the freedom of moving through space at a mere whim so much until it was given back to me for awhile by a kind friend in the form of a 1997 Crown Victoria. Surprisingly, it has made me miss the independence I used to have- even separate from my partner- as we have shared one car for over a couple of years now + we tend to have the same hobbies and interests= we're always together.

So, I now (very surprisingly) crave my own car, so I can focus solely on my own direction in life, as it is apparently sorely overdue. Unhealthy (is it?) co-dependency sneaks up upon the best of us. I don't know if I lived in another time, place, culture, or status if not having a car always available to me and having to rely on others or other systems would be more or less of a social and personal conundrum.

I didn't say much to people at first about our car problems because I dislike being made to feel like we didn't approach buying a used car with care as underscored in peoples' advice given out of hindsight. It is just that it is used, and sometimes used cars have issues, and sometimes these are major issues. People like to talk themselves into oblivion thinking they can find out the way to prevent random bad things from happening to themselves or people they are attached to. Which is nice overall, because that means they wish the best for me. It is just exhausting to rehash things you are currently dealing with when you just want help in the form of a ride to work/grocery store and not a brainstorming session.

Either way, the confinement of not being able to do something is much different than not choosing to do something. I can't tell you how many weekends I've spent not leaving my house. However, I never felt lost and unfocused (different than depressed nothingness) like I did this past weekend when there wasn't a way for us to leave. Sure, we went outside for a couple of walks, but all of my energy seemed sucked away into the stress of it all. I didn't realize that THAT was the reason for my severe mood until I was given the beautiful gift this weekend of getting around in a lovely salmon-colored dream that drives like a tank. I am so much more positive and alert. And surprised.

My change of heart of getting another car so my partner and I can each have our own is indeed surprising. Something about this idea feels healthy to me even though:
 I want to be green and save the gas,
I am a minimialist by nature and owning two of something is with the same function seems inelegant,
our dispositions are naturally patient with what others would consider extravagant inconvenience,
and we don't mind each others' sustained prescence.

We count ourselves as spending alone time even if the other person is still at home- even in the same room, we are generally and genuinely that unbothered.

But maybe we shouldn't be. Maybe we don't understand that we can drain each other without realizing it. Not saying we aren't being honest with each other or ourselves- just saying the fact of having to cope with another person's schedule puts our physical being in a state of constant awareness. Maybe emotionally we don't mind having an unconscious and constant vigiliance about the ones we love, but our reactive wiring can eventually and incrementally wear on us mentally/physically without us being aware of it. Perhaps this over time may manifest in our moods, but we cannot pinpoint the source anymore are thus continue to remain unaware of what is stifling us.

Maybe...
or maybe I'm trying to find any excuse to attach my personal rut to.
It's hard to sort yourself out sometimes. And I don't know where this experience of not having a car for awhile has actually led me to. I do know I drove around with the one and only window that goes down on the loaner car today and I felt boundless, and I felt uplifted, and I felt free.

What I like on a grey day in May

I like how water drowns out sound

I like holding a warm mug with both hands

I like seeing insects rescued from peril

I like my fingers finding transendence on a piano

I like a friend's smile just as it reaches their eyes

I like the sound of the words speckled and quiver

I like seeing the moon in the daylight