Block 849: November 20, 2015

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Happy International Adele Appreciation Day, everyone.

Haven’t bought the album yet… YET.

Date: November 20, 2015

Crane: 849

Days Spent on Project: 1004

Location: NW Portland, OR

Person I would have sent it to: TBD

Music I listened to while sewing: In honor of Adele, I’m going through any song I can shuffle through on Spotify, Youtube, and iTunes. Currently, listening to Skyfall, which is awesome in ways that a James Bond song hasn’t been in years.

Thoughts/Feelings behind the block: I woke up this morning at 2am. In a panic. My iPhone was dead next to me; I plugged it in and waited for it to recharge so I could set my alarm for 6am.

I didn’t get back to sleep in the four interim hours, though. I listened to my dog snore and purr, and felt him curled up directly next to me.

At 6am, when the alarm rang, I got up and took The Dog out for a walk.

At 7am, I was at the gym; getting in 30 minutes of cardio was better than anything to pass time, wake myself up, and combat the laziness that I feel weighing down on me. I, thankfully, didn’t see any other people from work at the gym at 7am.

It’s now past 8pm on a Friday night and I’m exhausted again. I probably won’t be able to get to sleep for a few hours, but I’m hoping to sleep in tomorrow. My mind, my subconscious, my heart can’t be concerned with waking up early tomorrow, right? It can be a lazy Saturday.

Work is moving along. The clothes we’re building for the added/bonus/new scene in the Christmas show (that I’m designing!) are turning out well and getting a lot of positive feedback. In fact, a lot of people at work seem to be giving me lots of positive feedback lately. They’re excited and amused and entertained by the clothes they see developing in the shop. Some people in Administration hear about the work I’m doing and they’re excited to see it when the show opens. It’s a weird change, to actually hear people compliment you directly at work.

The people in the shop are happy, too. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but they’re happy or content or what-have-you right now. They’re busy, but not too busy, and they seem excited by the costumes they’re working on.

I have to admit that I’ve been hardly sleeping this week for a central reason: I worry that I’m worn out and that my body is going to give out soon. I’m tired. I’m 36 and I feel so worn out and used.

Personally, I feel isolated and alone. I worry that I’ve metaphorically succumbed to life here in Portland, meaning I no longer go out and meet people and see things that inspire me or drive me or push me. I’m 36 and I’m worried that I’ll never have a group of friends to be with or never go on a date again or even flirt with a guy (I haven’t been on a date- despite some BIG attempts here- in a year now and that is actually painful?) or be inspired or inspiring or make a connection or go out to eat with someone.

I think I’m staying up at night because I’m afraid of the fact that I’m more alone than I have been in years.

Even in New York, when I had no work and no money, there were still opportunities to go out with likewise-minded friends or similarly broke friends. Even in New York- especially in New York- you were always surrounded by people or humanity; you could never find yourself walking to work at 8:30 in the morning on the weekday and find yourself walking close to a mile without walking next to someone. Even in New York, with its over-stimulation and push and weight and depression and desperation, I had found my pockets of “Here I am now talking to other people and having a moment of connection.”

Portland hasn’t/isn’t giving me that.

And I stay up at night wondering if this is it. I don’t want to be as alone as I feel here. I don’t want to be secluded in the Pacific Northwest like this, even if my life on paper and in my checking account is better.

I don’t want to be so desperate for emotion that I drink wine.

I don’t want to be so desperate for emotion that I lessen my worth in the hopes of getting people to notice me.

I’m not a hater.

I’m not obtuse.

I’m not a dead weight.

I worry that I’m desperate for human connection or the emotions that come from connecting to people. I want to genuinely connect to someone, for more than a drink, for more than an evening, for more than a meeting, for more than a rehearsal.

I want to connect.

I need to connect.

I have to connect somehow. Socially. Personally. I do.

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