It's been a week since Mona and I split up. More accurately, I made life unbearable until she had no choice but to leave. Great way to run your life, let me tell you.

I've consumed at least a little bit of alcohol almost every night since then (well, actually, on friday I got started with tequila at about 1400, which isn't recommended--a hangover at 2200 is no fun at all). I imagine I'm at risk for abuse there, given my family history; I'm not worried. That's hardly an assurance, though. Between my two parents, there's just the right amount of worrying that happens. My memory, though, is that most of the time Mom worries a lot, often when there's not necessarily cause for much worry; and Dad doesn't worry much, sometimes even when there is stuff that should be worried about. Through genetics or choice or both (let's face it, it's more fun to worry less), I took after Dad in this area. So I'm generally unconcerned, and even when I am concerned, I usually look unconcerned (this is sometimes good and sometimes bad--calmness can be helpful when things are going very badly, but on the other hand it can look like I don't care).

Amazing, isn't it, the fictions that come through as we imagine and create ourselves. Maybe I really don't care. Hard to tell, neh?

I can feel me, in here, buried under all this crap of personality and ego.

Tonight I tried to go start aikido. I got there, sheepish because I was late because the dojo changed locations (I was on time to arrive at the old dojo) to a much, much, much nicer place. I had brought my gi (practice clothes) and bokken (wooden sword), because tonight was supposed to be weapons practice. So a friendly but serious man named Andre started teaching me how to use a sword, including the minutiae of the greeting ceremony, wherein you hold the sword in specific ways as you bow to the shrine in front of the dojo, the teacher, and the sword itself.

It was a great lesson, especially since I've been wanting to learn swords for years and years and years, ever since I was a little kid. It did strike me as a little odd: the insistence on specifics is characteristic of a lot of Japanese spiritual/martial pursuits, like Zen, or the tea ceremony; but, most of the sword students were practicing their movements with live swords, sharp edges and all. All a little odd, but different dojos do things differently, so...

As I talk to Andre after the class it becomes clear that the space is being shared by the aikido dojo and his dojo, which is a Japanese fencing style called Iaido, which I've never heard of. This is okay, really: it turns out I can study both aikido and Iaido at a bit of a discount if I take both. I'll wait until I have steadier employment, though.

Speaking of which, although it's not at all confirmed, it sounds like UCSB has more work opportunities for me, which is perfect as long as they don't involve moving down there. Meantime, my code is actually deployable, meaning someone can download it, adjust a configuration file, and it JFWs (Just Fucking Works).

But I'm not okay. I can feel it. I'm broken, the brokenness that split up me and Mona.

There's a whole complex of emotions there that, I think, I am not going to go into.