August 30th, 2007


(no subject)

Well, well, well.

I need to meet some people. I have been spending far too long in relative isolation--it's gonna kill me before much longer.


If you're local and want to get together for coffee, dinner, whatever--send me an e-mail, tell me when's good for you, don't be shy! I can't hack much more solitude or I'm gonna freak out, turn tail, and run all the way back to North Carolina, and that would be a real waste. *grin*

I'm at ursulav (at) -- drop a line, O Bay Area-ites!


The problem with being strong all the time is that you never learn the end of your strength.

Until you drive into it.

Doing sixty.

It was interesting. I felt it go. My internal narrator folded her arms, leaned against the wall, and said quietly, to no one in particular, "And there...right the moment where I lost my shit."

I did it quietly, in the apartment. I didn't go climbing any clock towers or driving off bridges. I think, however, that I cannot do this out here. This doesn't feel like a passing panic. I am an old hand at passing panic--I've been passing it for quite awhile. This is me being done.

I'm gonna take a week and do tourist stuff, I think. And then, if I have not made some kind of miraculous saving throw on my sanity check, I think I may haul off and go back to Raleigh. It's a little embarassing--it smells like failure--but  I have reached my limit--this is too much, too soon, too huge, too far afield. God help me, I am as tough as they come, but I just don't think I can do this now.

It's been the longest year of my life, and very nearly the worst. And I kept on going, and I kept being strong. And I kept throwing myself into things, because I thought that strength was inexhaustible.

Guess not.

Live and learn, huh?