Or is it thirty-four? It must be thirty-four because there were thirty-one days in January. I will have to go back and edit in the correct numbers since we crossed over into February. Anyway. I was thinking on the ride home, the relatively calm, relatively controlled ride home that what I really wanted to talk about was titles today. Less talk about them, actually, and more just generate a 500 word list of titles that I could foresee using for posts. Sometimes picking out the title is my very favorite part, often, it is. Somehow, every day, there’s something that catches in the net of my mind and is reeled in and picked out as intriguing or interesting, or fitting in some way to play off of the writing that follows. Today’s just came to me unbidden, and I remembered Walk Two Moons, and the temporary building our classroom was set in that year and the teacher’s voice as she read that book to us. It clung to me like a burr in a sweater. Which is to say, forever.
I need to eat, I’m starting to be very unsure about what tomorrow will bring weather-wise and I’ll have to get gas in the morning. Bratwurst or eggs and bacon?
…I’m sitting here and trying to explain to myself, yet again, that I am getting hyper about something that will happen whether or not I choose to get hyper about it. It is no defense at all. It does not keep one flake of snow from gathering on the ground. It does increase my anxiety and fear so that it seems like the only logical solution is to avoid experiencing the petrifying possibility of losing control and dying on the road. I keep thinking – is that what I’m afraid of happening – but that’s not even it, though it plays a role. It’s more a fear of being in someone else’s way, of impacting someone else’ life, of not knowing the rules in every instance and in my ignorance causing an accident, or even down to just frustrating people around me. I seem to be able to project my frustration and anxiousness out on the cars around me and then, via this ever-loving empathy, soak it right back in, double-time. This is not new news, this is just me breathing through crazy. Recognizing that I’ve been able to overcome this day after day, night after night, but the crop sprouts up anew. I still feel like this is being done to hurt me. A really ridiculous, self-centered thing to believe.
Maybe the smarter thing to say is I don’t like driving in the snow and it’s frustrating to have to do something I don’t like, but I can only do the best I can to handle my life requirements and often this means I will have to drive in and on and around snow. And as I do it, I’ll feel better equipped. Probably I’ll never like it. Ever. But life is not WonderBread, you get the hulls and the shells and you just have to use your tools to get around that.
So, yes, there’s that plus going to the psychic, all of which is doable. It’s not like I’m not going to go.