Pleasingly close

Aries, Wednesday, 23 February 2011
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How well will things work out? Surprisingly well. How close will you get to the fulfilment of your dearest dream? Pleasingly close. How much do you now need to be worried about? Less than you think. Okay. Any other questions? Sometimes you can be your own worst enemy. You make wise choices and then criticise yourself for ages afterwards. Things naturally start to move in the right direction - and you suddenly wonder if you should be heading for some different destination. Question less and accept more today.

__________________________

Well, thank you, Cainer. Thank you thank you. For what its worth, yesterdays forecast fit the day well. I thought it was going to be a big stinking deal when I emailed Bruce to inquire about the moving expenses check. Its demoralizing having to ask. I hate it. And at the same time, it's in the settlement. I think he knows I hate having to ask, and drags it out to see if I will. Regardless, I have it. It's here (still a check from our former account with my name crossed off- classy, right?). It's done. 

The more people ask about LA, the more I begin to freak out. What if I'm not good enough? What if I suddenly hate acting? What if I can't juggle the lifestyle very well? What if I am not able to support myself? The feeling creeps in when people see me taking boxes and want to know what my next steps are. Or when they flat out ask me. Or when I talk to my mother. Or when I wake up. Or when I drink water... you get the idea. 

But I should question less, and accept more today. So I will. Starting with packing. Soooo behind on it. Not that I have a ton to pack. And not that hanging out with Eva wasn't super important last night. I worried that I freaked her out with my meltdown the other night. Oh yeah, I had a meltdown the other night. The final decree arrived in the mail, declaring that Bruce is ABSOLUTELY DIVORCED from me. That's the language used in the decree. Which has a gold emblem on it. A gold fucking emblem representing the statesman proudly standing on the dead tyrant. Or as I assumed it translated: Bruce standing on me. Singlehood standing on marriage. Love dying under the weight of Bruce. Or under the weight of my issues. Or under the weight of his issues and my issues combined. Anyway you look at it- the gold emblem is nasty smack in my face. 

So, I received this decree, somewhat relieved for it all to be over. Then I told my parents about it. They got emotional. Then we had a heated conversation about chesterfield planning. Then my mom probed and prodded and poo-pooed LA. Then I came home and stared at the final decree again. Then I let it wreck me for a night. 

But I woke up the next day feeling a bit better, liked I mourned the loss and was ready to move on. And haven't looked back.