“I feel like an out of work porn star.”

working woman

Today has been annoying, mostly.  At least I feel like I’ve accomplished something useful on this blog of late.  I worked myself free from a lot of things that were weighing me down emotionally.  Some may think I overshare by writing about hard things in my past.  From my perspective, I believe my understanding of the word privacy differs from that of most.  I’m not up to agonizing over the words at the moment, so that’ll have to suffice.

I hope nobody ever feels traumatized by my words.  I don’t think I’m blunt, but I’ve been told otherwise more than once.  For a long time, I couldn’t talk about those things.  I couldn’t say the word rape.  I didn’t talk about my ex-husband, and I fled the moment I thought someone was interested in me romantically.  I held back from any relationship because everyone dies, and I didn’t believe I could outlive someone I love again.

Things are different now.  I’m not even sure when it happened.  I don’t live under a rock anymore.  I shelter myself from news of the horrifying things going on in the world, but that’s out of self-preservation.  I guess I feel like I’ve healed.  Things that happened in the past no longer own me.  I usually celebrate everything positive.  Instead, I’m just going to listen to 24-Karat-Gold: Songs From the Vault by Stevie Nicks with my eyes closed, and think about the future.  Some victories are melancholic.

I haven’t gone to the office to work much this year.  I’m more productive working from home, but if I don’t go anywhere for too long, I start feeling like I can’t.  I’ve never allowed it to get to the point where I felt trapped in my home, but I’ve been close enough to see how it can happen.  It would be a steep fall downhill because it would mean no more running.  I don’t even want to pursue this hypothetically.  😂  I have a plan to prevent it.

It feels a little weird to tell my work partner all my secrets about running a software company.  But it’s the reason I’m his partner and not retired professionally, working some part-time job that allows me to use headphones.  There’s no need for him to repeat the trial and error I used to figure out my path.  He acts like he’s in awe of me for doing it, which is uncomfortable.  I told him it’s logical and lots of people do it.  Plus, I’m getting paid for escorting him into a meaner tax bracket.

In a few months, I plan on selling most of my interest to other employees.  I don’t think it’ll take him very long to integrate his new tools and develop confidence in his abilities.  I figure I’ll be itching to move on to something more fulfilling by summer.  The leader of the band I joined recently has been training me to become a “real drummer.”  He’s kind of an asshole about it, but whatever.  I can’t afford to turn down information.

I spent most of today at his studio where I set up a beat-to-shit drum kit precisely as instructed.  Then I tore it down, put everything carefully in these cases that look like giant hat boxes, and moved a foot in whatever direction he assigned, and set it up again.  Three times so far.  Then we left for the day, and tomorrow I’ll be back doing the same.

He said until I’ve done it 50 times, I’m not a drummer.  I’m a poser.  I said, “okay.”  See Alison grovel like a wannabe drummer.  I didn’t mention it’s the first time I’ve ever set up an acoustic kit.  I have to say, thinking before speaking is working for me.  I’m off to listen to Stevie Nicks.

2 thoughts on ““I feel like an out of work porn star.”

Comments are closed.