i've been going through some weird emotional rollercoater-y type times lately, and my evil twin seems to emerge every time i've had a healthy helping from the old alkyhol food group. family issues about one relationship in particular, have been bugging me - it seems in sober, waking life i don't really obsess about this one (now) non-existant relationship much, but after i've had a couple it all mushroom-clouds out of control, and i end up spitting hurt and ager and bile - unfortunately for him - in mark's general direction, because it all usually comes to a head in the car on the way home from whatever family function or whatever where the topic may have been brought up again. i realise that i have a lot bottled up about this situation - a lot of unanswered questions, and many feelings of betrayal which i feel i may never get over (i don't trust easily, and i do not cope very well when i find out that my absolute trust in an individual was misplaced, and/or disrespected, as i feel it has been in this situation) - and the way i have been dealing with it is to distance myself from the issue and not think about it. but the times when there is no actual physical distance, i find there is heaps of room for analysis and hurt. and the cycle of self-destructive analysis begins yet again... so, that was my saturday night.
the second thing causing me angst - working through the legalese of a publishing contract i have been offered for my first novel. there is nothing like legalese to suck the joy out of any given situation, and sometimes i feel like running away and hiding from it, and everyone else's opinions on what i should and should not do. when i speak with the publishers, they assure me that the contract is not designed to trap or trick me; when i relay this information to others, they smirk knowingly and give me that 'sure, sure' look. i have always wanted a publishing contract. i now have three copies of one sitting on the dining table. i give them a wide berth when i'm in the dining room, and wonder if it talks about me behind my back, if little secrets and smarms about me are whispered between pages in the middle of the night when i am not there to catch them. i advised a lawyer friend of mine that he should use his catchphrase on his business card. 'mr john q citizen, ba. llb. trust no c**t'.
trust seems to be a central issue in this post - i desperately want all the war stories about big, bad publishing houses and small, defenceless writers to be wrong. so far, they have given me no reason to want to hire a skywriter to plaster offensive messages about them in the crisp spring blueness; let's hope it never gets to that stage. i've heard skywriters are really expensive.