Four Days, One Hour, And Thirty Minutes To Go...
I must admit that the last two weeks have flown by. How did that happen? Usually, time drags when you're anxious. Yet, I'm almost done at the present job and I'm like, "HuH??"

It only means the obvious; That the last of the water is swirling down the drain. This must be the experience of all elderly. Suddenly the vital days are gone and as your slope gets deeper and the momentum builds and away you jet to the edge faster and faster until wheEHeeEEeEee...!!!into the Great B. Dang, I sound like the name of this blog is "When I'm Eighty...".

I was given my first five clients in my traveling therapist job and I can tell you absolutely nothing more about it, except that it's starting to sink in. I'm a real live therapist. My new supervisor is handing me cases with that understanding--that expectation. These clients are waiting for me to show up with my crap on lock, no bullshi--, come correct, and help me out of my problems. No excuses.

I'm confident that in the moment, I can do this. Before the moment, before the first phone call to set up the appointment, I'm like "OH SH*T. What am I DOING? Who the **ck do I think I AM?"

How did I get to be such a fearful dude? Anxieties like shadows of birds swarming all around my position. Perhaps I should really look into some medication. A little happy pill to take the edge off life. Something to knock the wall down and give me the freedom to knock on Exotic Name Girl's door instead of daily passing it and imagining her launch out at me in fury or fear, or her naked bodybuilder boyfriend rushing out to pound me into salt for interrupting his groove, or the thousand other disasters waiting to happen when she opens that door (want some fun? Let's name some more--Tapioca will come drizzling out of my mouth when I try to say anything or a snot bubble will splash her dress. She'll be a lesbian and laugh me to scorn. She'll fall madly in love with me and obsess over me, breaking into my house and boiling my cat in my 10 qt. pot. She'll o/d on sleeping pills because I fail to give her the love she "truly deserves". Her family will ostracize her and me because I'm black and she's not. She has AIDS and after three and a half years of being her primary caregiver, she'll die in my arms, once and for all shattering the fragile mechanism that stood-in for my heart for lo, these the last four decades. Shall I stop now?)

Well, I'm going to leave early again. Get in my car and boogie home.

Four more days to go.

Me at 3/22/2004 03:30:00 PM

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