oooh, da balloons!

professionals have told me that i myself am not, but i sorta wonder if maybe my life itself is bipolar. sometimes it's really high, and christ knows it can go low. the highs are less about emotion and more about pace. i cope well with the stress of schedules. the frenzy makes me grateful for the distractions. not distracted like a baby gawking at shiny objects or bunches of balloons. more like an embalmer called away from the work table to tend to another task. then when life hits a low, i fall under the spell of a cocoon, revisiting things that never really went anywhere, just got compressed and distorted while being trampled under my busy feet. whatever.

so i'm overwhelmed with busy-ness. the days are jam-packed and i don't even have the time to consider whether or not i like it. with only five days left for the campaign, i've moved into that delicious pre-vote drunkenness that overtakes most campaigners. like an addict getting a fix. i'm of course more worried than ever about winning. we are pushing this beast as hard as we can, and with a bit more sweat, our guy just might win. if he doesn't, well, gosh darnit, that's just too unbearable a thought for the moment. so i'm begging the universe for this one small itty bitty seemingly insignificant victory - a whole lot of people could really use it.

a couple of small contracts are still dangling on account of my inability to tie up some loose ends. i'm eager to clear them off my plate so i can enjoy the new contract i just accepted. i wasn't particularly looking to work here, but it would be really stupid to pass up the chance to work in this department - i'll be doing some work on disability rights, the child care campaign, and follow-up to labour's involvement in these frustrating and questionable government consultations. this is a short gig, but a very lucrative one. so for financial reasons, and other noble motives, i said yes to the offer when she phoned on thursday. it happened pretty fast. i'm now pondering how this might fuck with the delicate mojo that was nudging me towards pursuing more writing. at the very least, i want to get my website up and running this month. with any luck, the clc gig will help me afford to pursue that goal without having to jump at contract offers that don't relate to writing. at least i'll still be writing part-time for this group's new "womyn's lives" project while i attempt to navigate the frustrating layers of bureaucracy that is the canadian house of labour.

more than anything, i feel pooped. times like these make me miss having a soft place to land at the end of a day. i wish i had my very own joe dubois... ridiculously understanding and supportive. someone who takes care of things while i run off in all directions to pursue a hunch. who holds me and strokes my hair when i jolt awake in the night, crying and spooked by yet another difficult dream.