Oh funny…these May 21st people are really just funny. I am not even sure where the paranoia comes in but I haven’t taken any time to go peruse the theories about why it’s supposed to be this Saturday, but I have heard mumblings of some cosmic once in a million years event to massive earthquakes rumbling across the earth, rendering it inhabitable. I am not sure why this is the day that was chosen, or if it was just a dart on a calendar, but it’s kind of weird with all of these apocalyptic predictions running the gamut for the next year and some. It’s enough to make a girl paranoid. Not that it would matter, as any earthquakes rendering the world uninhabitable would probably make me want to be one of the dead given wandering around alone, though interesting, would be fine until running into this death and destruction. I know, I think I am alone now, wait until I see that, but I am pretty sure that I would be fine when faced with that adversity, especially given I could never be the ONLY one left wandering around. And if I was I could do whatever I wanted, and I would survive just fine given I have proven to have that little extra something that doesn’t just throw the towel in when adversity hits. Unless, say, it is a pointless pursuit giving me nothing but headaches. Then I will walk away. In fact, walking away is something I have become more adept with in my age, and I feel totally fine leaving. Hence, leaving NY was easy. Leaving the company of people who make me feel bad is easier. Leaving me is never going to happen, even if I forget that for small expanses in time.

This brings me back to a quote I read that a friend posted yesterday: “If you are lonely when you’re alone, you are in bad company.” Jean-Paul Sartre.

Well that put a wild new spin on things given I keep complaining to people around me about this throbbing reminder that all of my friends are far away. I miss my buddies, sure, given I have all of these fantastic things to show them. I want to take them out and show them some of the beauty I have discovered here. It’s one of those things you want to do, or at least I have been prone to doing…sharing everything that I have with people around me who matter. I probably am a little too giving, but to me the relationships we have and foster with the people around us make life worthwhile.

One thing my friend and her friends were talking about in regards to that quote was how often they all talked to themselves. I thought it was strange at first, talking to myself with or without an audience. As I sang to my computer last night, ” I don’t even care anyyymoooore, because they are all douchebags,” my mother looked up from her computer across the room and said, “well, that’s not a happy song you are singing this time.” She has become accustomed to my songs, which are kind of a running commentary on my life and the people in it. I do sing them alone, but she and Joe have been witness to more than a few. Joe said to me once that he could tell when I was happy because I would sing and bounce around. I traded in my dance marathons for my breakout singing because I know I can startle people when I am just standing there and then bust my moves. Then again calling it singing is probably not even right given it’s just a sentence I will try twist the cadence to, helping it evolve into something less abrupt and more sing-song funny. And saying to someone, “well, no, I think I am done because he is an asshole,” is harder to negotiate than “heeee is an assshole and I am finitoo, duhn duhn duhn.” Kristen and I used to have morning and midnight dance offs because spontaneous dance kind of rules. She and Babs and I danced on Broadway last year in a synchronized dance routine I am sure I forgot. But dancing and I have become less friendly lately until I set up my swank little stereo. So I sing to break the silence in my house. I also have a running commentary that I am the only audience for in general, unless I decide to write about it later But the songs really are just explanations on how I feel about situations or people, near and far to me, and usually are just little innocuous statements which probably are more rude than they are kind, but inspiration to sing songs is like poetry except my poems are way better than any song I could break out with. This goes with the exception of the song E still has of me singing “time to catch the piggy, time to catch the piggy, and stab him in the face, and stab him in the face,” which was the song I came up with to put the killies on the hooks for bait when fluke fishing. That song is definitely a classic deanna tune.

After realizing I have been spending a little too much time crying in my solitude, I am pretty sure I am done with all of that. And it literally just had to be me making this a decision I could not go back on by writing it out. I did not cry here until last week, really, after gloating to people back east that I found no reason to cry here. Because it’s true. It’s amazingly lovely here. I have met a few lovely people too, and some people who have surprised me with being worse than I thought they were and some who turned out better (that’s you, Dan–thanks for trying to be a good friend and helping me in the midst of my strife). I have a ton of stuff I need to get going, and getting this business off its feet is something which is more important than making any friend or lover stick, given right now those candidates are dwindling down and I need to make some new moves. With my teeth issue it makes certainly things a little less easy given the money is allocated to something crazy like being able to chew. Yes, and on that note I got a full night’s sleep last night, 7 hours! Waking up at 6 to walk the charger over was an easy thing not filled with that dreaded P word. My mother (Babs!) sat next to my bed last night as I was going down to sleep and kneaded the knot(s) out as best as she could and also told me she recognized why I was hurting so much with my ropes of knots lining both sides and my shoulders hunched over in that protect my injured heart motion. Kind of cool once again getting that legitimization that my p-word (pain) was normal, if not under-reported. I did tell her several times yesterday that I was sorry for being a pain all day and complaining because I know it’s annoying, to which she replied, “you are not annoying, at all.” Sometimes that’s enough, even if she was lying to make me feel better. And it was. I admit I am the girl who will apologize for myself in the event it makes someone else uncomfortable, but this has sometimes evolved into seemingly apologizing for even existing.

So today is Wednesday and I have something awesome I am doing in an hour or two for an hour or two. I will reveal more news on that later (maybe), but let’s just say my world might be changing in some direction after today’s revelation. Well, we hope. And the kind of direction that changes the way everything will go down in the future.

I am also looking into volunteering with some local groups given my schedule right now is a bit free to help others, and while I have the time, it’s best not to sit around complaining about not being able to share with the people I know. I just need to share with other others, or new others instead of the old standby’s who probably got a little too used to my giving before anyways. I still have these sugarplum visions of starting an art program or some other creative outlet for the kids who need more to do. F and I were going to partner up the year or two before the JC art school opened up to do much the same. So I need to get a little better partnering with the local arts and crafts groups and see what events they might have for young adults. I am good with kids and all, I just think that it’s a little easier to rationalize or bring up questions which make kids think in kids who are of an age to have opinions. Either that or I need to figure out what the pediatric cardiac wards are made of here and go see them there and talk about what they are feeling and how things are when you have a bum battery in your body. After that I will have to bring my cancer bands over to the cancer wards as little gifts of sorts. To consider visiting these women in those wards makes me feel like an imposter given I don’t know what having cancer is like. I do know how it is to be so sick you wished for your own death, drooling into a plastic tray when you really just wanted to throw up, your throat and muscles too tired to convulse at all. I am sure it’s not entirely different given long recovery and the aspect of your body working against you, with recovery seemingly limited at times. Though I guess is is more similar than I thought given my relapses have been frequent and though I have been promised they are all done now, it’s still the creepy skeleton in my closet I would prefer not to know at all. So yes. There is that.

Goals for the rest of this week: Joining the association of artists and crafters to get the head’s up on art fairs. Making more bands with scarves to take to Boulder and Littleton and go secure all of the boutique deals finally. Getting the sample shirts done, the new ones which will be amazing!!

Oh, and last but not least, surviving the end of the world with a smile on my lips and maybe a tasty adult beverage in my hands. I haven’t had a drink in days (this is not that odd, but beer here is something new, and I have for the first time in my life made it a fridge staple)…and will not have anything to drink for at least another week or so. But if we are going out, you better believe I am going out with a smile on my face, no matter what. Granted it would be better to go out in the arms of a partner, but there is simply too much to do to worry about anyone else and what they think. And the elusive arm of communication still evades me, no matter how belligerent I get to inspire any disclosure (thanks, you guys, you stink, but I still miss and love you much the same!)