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So. Um. Huh.


This is not an entry I particularly wanted to write, but since it'd be weird if I didn't--I record so many details of my life, and it'd be pretty obvious eventually if I was leaving it out--it looks like James and I are splitting.

Yeah, kinda sucks.

We're doing a trial seperation first. It's all very amicable and almost desperately congenial, nobody's really at fault, but, well....we had a bunch of good years, we got each other's careers started, and I've got no regrets. Still, we're both obsessive workaholics, and after awhile we just grew apart. We're great partners on the practical stuff, but eventually that's not gonna keep stuff going. So we'll take a few months, get the finances worked out, and I'll find a place of my own and...guess we'll see where life takes us after that. I'm not sure if I can make a living on my own on art and writing, but I'll give it a damn good try, and more than that, one cannot expect from life.

I'm alternating between calm and wrecked, as one might expect. Still, I'm taking it pretty well. The nice thing about the axe falling is that you're not worrying about whether the axe is going to fall.

So...well, there we are.

Funny the way life goes, sometimes. But as Grandma used to say--"This, too, shall pass."

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It's a hard thing. In some ways, breaking up amicably is harder than hating each other. You don't get to do things like getting drunk and telling all your friends what a horrible pig he is, and you still care about each other. In the long run it's far nicer though... my short and sorrowful marriage in my 20s was very amicable. He and I have remained friends ever since, and we still have serious chemistry for each other, but we absolutely can't *be* together, it's toxic.

If you have a special friend or two who will let you do the rage thing and then wipe it from memory, it's not a bad thing to do; it's rather like lancing a boil, because even an amicable, friendly, caring breakup has anger and pain. Once that's cleaned out, healing proceeds far more rapidly.

On a sillier note, luchog and I will happily adopt you. You can move to the Pacific Northwest, home of all the best cartoonists and serial killers, as well as fascinating animals like a boa that appears to have a head at both ends. Thanks to that aforementioned marriage, I'm well-trained at dealing with muse-ridden people who are too busy drawing or painting to remember little details like food or sleep :-)

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