(no subject)

 I've been writing a shit ton. The progress feels great. 

Since I wrote last, my grandfather, the union patriarch who lifted up his whole holler, died. He died in the nursing home of old age. It was a slow, meandering spiral downward into dementia. By the time he passed, he was unrecognizable. He'd grown a godly beard, but his body was emaciated and weak. Spindly. His eyes didn't see us. To be honest, when he died, it was a relief. It was so hard watching him deteriorate. 

I got a part time job at the local library. I shelve books in my day. I work with 50-60 year old ladies who cluck and tut around. All of them are mother hens. We have very little in common, outside of a love of reading. We certainly don't read the same books. Regardless, they're kind, so I like them. 

I've been single for almost 2 years now. I haven't had sex in a year. I've barely even flirted. Idk what's going on with me. 

I got my teaching license, finally. Now, I just have to start the process of hunting for a new job outside of the states. But: do I wait another year? Or do I go buckwild trying to get a new gig for the winter, throwing it all over to luck? We'll see what happens, I guess. 

I'm staying on top of my depression. I'm doing great for someone who isn't going to therapy. I'd love to go to therapy, but I don't have insurance and I really can't throw money around like that right now. Besides, all of my problems are caused by me being stuck here. If I can get out, everything else will fall into place. 

The first paragraph of Moby Dick comes to mind: 

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time tozz get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball.