i’m thinking about replacement and compartmentalization. about how our conversations stay with me far longer than you realize. i’m thinking about how funny it is that jay, after kindly asking for my resume to put in front of the development person at the research center, responded back with a, “fantastic, but…..could you kinda reformat a bit to pertain to this job in anyway whatsoever? since your help was crucial for me during the XYZ efforts, you might shoulda include that. thanks a mil!! you’re fabu!! love you!!!”

what can you say to that? i’m still laughing, hours later. i have no idea what he’s referring to that i could have done that could be remotely considered “crucial.” i have no idea why i didn’t taylor the rez to fit the mold. could fall out of my chair over this…

back on replacement. most of the time, i see this as something people seriously fear. send themselves into anxieties over the issue. i’ve found that i have the fear, but that i also fear the reverse – that i will replace and forget everything about what i learned and loved. but some know what it is, first hand, from having experienced it countless times. or one or two times – either way; quite enough. it must hurt. it must be lonely. it must become a scab over something fresh. it probably cauterizes and changes the chemistry, lessening the potency and ability to react with intervening agents.

i’m learning that i can’t really smoke and be in social settings anymore. i am the anti-social. the one exception being last night, which left me giggling and laughing my way throughout a seriously nervous movie, much to my sublime delight (much less to those around me). most of the time though, i learn with every attempt that by partaking, i am drastically isolating. i am wanting so badly to share but am completely incapable of sharing. ahh, the bloody irony. all beginning in the intention of fun, ending however in the reality of platitude. my retreat is too internal, too “caroline, come to the light caroline!”
it’s a symptom of fkking age. i’m fkking already old; when the drugs do work, they feast on and deplete invaluable seratonin. leaving seratonin with the street value of pure gold. so valuable, so desired, so sorely missed. it’s the literal fountain of youth, i’ve decided.

so seratonin depletion and replacement.
we’re on that one now.

we do, i guess, reach boiling points. the time will come when it is all shaken free. the time will come when i will spend the whole night job hunting, like i wish i was doing, with each billable increment i populate my day with. no, no – the time will come when i’ll say, “fk job hunting! fk working for that matter! i bite my thumb at the thought! harrumph!”

the boiling point – i’ll finally create that piece in my head. i’ll finally show you that thing that i see. i’ll show you the cool, cool sarcastic understatement, babe.
it’s fkking breathtaking.

but then again the damned question – can i share it? will you see?