My life is filled with a lot of stress right now. I don't know if I'm handling all of everything as well as I could, but who does that anyway? I'm doing the best that I can, that's all I know.
Overall, I feel happy and contented in general. About a month and a half ago, I broke up with my live-in boyfriend of five years. It was hard and scary, but I know it was the right thing to do. I feel happier in a deep part of myself, and I feel relief.
He will be moving out soon, and I have to decide what I'm doing about the apartment. I'm thinking of calling the landlord and seeing if I can get out of the lease early, but then where to go? Do I find roommates, another place around here in Brighton or Allston? Do I move somewhere else in Boston? Do I leave, follow the road, go stay for four or five months with my brother and his will-then-be wife in Ann Arbor, going down through Indiana, through the South, the West, ending up finally on that other coast like I've always wanted?
But good things are happening here. I am getting published. My work is getting complimented. I am making connections. Would the scene in another city be like this? Be worse? Be better?
Should I stick it out here until I've drunk it dry, like I did with Bloomington? Until I have taken and channeled all it can offer me, until my blood runs with the dark filthy water of the Charles?
So much is dependent on so many things which have not yet resolved. I am trying not to think of the stressful things. They will work themselves out when they can. Instead I will focus on those things that are going well. How in the past week, both Jack McCarthy and Ryk McIntyre told me they liked my poetry, and how I'm getting a few things published in small but real places, and how I'm getting so close to finishing my novel.
In two weeks I'll be back in Indiana for my brother's wedding. I have not even begun to think of how that will be, but the idea makes me happy.