movin' blues

I am exhausted. The last time I was this tired was when I left Aupaluk. Be aware that this may be disjointed and incoherent.

My boxes were packed and shipped this morning. The movers were an interesting mix of anal and incompetent. Some stuff was shipped which should not have been, some stuff that should have been shipped was not. It's frustrating. I need a day off, and I don't think I get one.

Tonight some of my lovely friends dropped by for fancy bread and dip and watermelon. I'm so glad we were able to hang out for a bit. I wish I had been more lively though. This exhaustion makes me feel waterlogged.

Sometimes I wish it was only strangers who read this blog. I would feel free then to really express the depth of my distress. There is no answer for it. It is the result of being without base, without attachment. I suppose this is what Buddhists are striving for? They say attachment leads to something bad. can't remember what. but I would give up a lot for attachment. Or would I? Would I be going if attachment to place was so important? Why is it always walking this tightrope? I don't have enough balance. I am heartbroken when I'm alone, but I'm stifled when I'm not. How does a person exist like this?

Fuck. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I think I'm just really really tired. I have been through a lot in the last week. I don't think I'm getting time to process it all. I'm not getting to process any of it. My grandma's death, my move, my new job, saying goodbye to good friends, ending my 'fling'. I've never been a successful flinger. I always get attached, but it isn't a real attachment because I gloss over all the ugly bits of abyss when we're together.

I think what is distressing me is that I want to feel attached. I like to wander around as long as I know there's a place to rest just about the bend. I want to have a place and people to go home to, and as much as I love this city and all my friends here, it isn't home just yet. And now that I'm leaving, maybe it won't be. Who knows?

OK. Let's change the topic quickly before I totally slip into blue. I have a beef about my gramma's funeral. It was wonderful to be with the fam to talk about our memories and gramma's life. It was grand to see everyone before I leave on Sunday. It was nice to have my brother-in-law share the ceremony with gramma's minister. But I resented the evangelism during the service. A funeral is not the time to 'save souls'. Don't tell me my gramma isn't dead - I carried the coffin. Don't force your idea of the afterlife on me. Let me mourn my loss and hers. Don't challenge me to think about my own mortality. That happens on its own, later. The funeral is about remembering my gramma's life, and she never once told me I'm going to hell.

I have stuff still to do, but I am too tired. Tonight there is only sleep for me.