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"People are afraid of themselves nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to oneself." - Oscar Wilde

My writing has not been up to par lately, and I realize that. I've barely had enough time to formulate a thought, much less put it down on paper. But I do appreciate the few courageous enough to point out that fact (sincerely).

When I haven't been dealing with the dramatic offerings of a cute little puppy, I've been on a tremendous journey of self-exploration. There is so much that I've been ruminating over for the last few weeks that I just haven't wanted to stop the brain train and interrupt it with analysis.

Perhaps I can explain a bit more. I read a phenomenal book that caused me to really look deeply at human relationships. That lead to another book, then another and yes, a fourth. One of the books spoke a great deal about visualization and offered exercises to try. I've learned some very interesting things.

I can't visualize. Literally. I cannot make my mind see pictures. For me, it's all words. I spoke to Shiraz about this at length. As a visual artist, she merely closes her eyes and pictures dance in her vision. I close my eyes and it's blackness. Now, I can create really rich words that convey what would be images to others, but for me, they are all stories. It's interesting. I'm not terribly bothered by it, but I do find it interesting and wonder if there are others for whom visualizing is merely an internal text message.

I have finally and genuinely released all of the guilt I have felt about ending my marriage. I *knew* this to be true last week. Last night, I was telling my ex-husband about the house I am purchasing, knowing that confrontation was knocking on the door due to the fact that it's quite a distance from our current locale and that this would force his hand a bit. Without my usual finessing, without my usual cautiousness, I explained to him that I had given the matter a good deal of thought, that I was making the right decision for the children, and more importantly, that I had made the decision and his only option was to follow suit. Not an ounce of guilt was present as I spoke, not an ounce of anxiety.

He did, naturally, attempt his normal tricks to manipulate and cause the guilt that he knows I wear so comfortably and I merely shrugged my shoulders and stood my ground. It didn't feel triumphant, it didn't feel as if I had one-upped him, it just felt like the matter-of-fact that it is - and that was beyond wonderful.

This house thing has been interesting.  The way this house found me when it found me proves that it will all work out just exactly like it's meant to. Well, I am a little afraid of it, but this was not just dumb luck - it was star-crossed and it's happening exactly like it's supposed to.

My only task is not to overthink it and interfere with the master plan. (And there's a metaphor for most of the things that happen in life, eh?) It's right between my parents house and my best friend's house, it's a great house that I'm getting a great deal on with great schools in walking distance, plenty of places to run, a pool in the neighborhood and my children will just flip out when they see it (I haven't mentioned a word to them, they will not see it until Christmas morning - since they'll be lucky to eat until then, much less receive a toy or two!).

The whole little non-experience with Dallas proved to be quite good for me. I'm so bored with these games that people play (and make no mistake, I've been playing them too) that I've decided to just not make an effort with anyone unless and until they prove themselves worthy of effort.

Last night, I sat in a crappy neighborhood bar with my father and got rip-roaring drunk and we talked about it all. I told him everything and we laughed long and hard. There's something pretty freaking fun about sitting in a seedy, shady, smoky little bar with your dad while you confess your stupidity to him. Fortunately, my father has walked down some pretty dimly lit roads himself - the only difference between he and I is that he's married them all.

Being my father's daughter, he offered some unique and correct perspective. Turns out that I've been choosing men that are unavailable quite intentionally - because I'm so unavailable. And perhaps that's why I've internally idealized my pilot - because he is physically unavailable. It's easy to be invested in someone that I never see - it's the ultimate no-stakes poker. He's there and I'm here. It's doomed no matter what - so...no real risk of emotional involvement. Easy.

Bottom line? I'm busy right now. I've got the house, I've got my daughter's birthday and work. There's the holiday parties and the fantastic dresses and requisite new shoes. There's New Year's and its symbolic end to a year that I won't mind saying good-bye to.

Then, there's my birthday and it's symbolic beginning of a year that I'm tremendously excited to welcome.