It Gets Lonely On the Other Side, Honey

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Things about today: maybe, maybe, 1% chance of going to Nova Scotia in July.  Mostly for the prospect of seeing my friends wearing all wearing Kate Bush red dresses at the same time.  Why? Because it’s funny.  Have not screwed up the diet, blissfully unaware if I’ve lost pounds, would be surprised if I’ve gained.  Doing it without a number to bash my head against.

+558 story words

Long Beard: Day Eighteen

For want of a better title, we begin with a fairly shitty and meaningless pair of words and a pixelated mess of a header picture.   Apologies, but that’s just how the cookie decided to crumble today.

We went and saw our friend and as much as I thought it was a good idea to be out in the free air and reconnecting with someone who has been a part of my sister, and to a lesser extent, my own life since high school, it was also, clearly very necessary for her to talk with us.  The trip is a good forty-five minutes away and it’s been over a year since we’ve broken away from our schedules to go and see her.  But she had a baby three months ago and since my sister now has a job that doesn’t require her to work on weekends and I have this weird respite, of sorts, now seemed to be the time.

The day was beautiful, full of sun that I’ve been ignoring in favor of a constant death march onward to the next task or just because I’ve been lost in the other dimension that keeps me anxious and tense and unaware of my surroundings.   It just feels good, maybe it’s the Vitamin D, but this Pasty McGee needed the outdoors more than she knew.   And our friend’s new baby is precious.  He didn’t cry once while we were together, for six or seven hours, and instead, nursed and slept and mostly just smiled and absorbed what was happening in a sage, placid sort of way.   Even with me pulling constant faces and making gurgling noises at him.  Of course, I’m not in any position to have a kid nor simple enough to assume that motherhood is totally like that.  But as a slice of the possible range of mothering experiences, it seemed pretty acceptable.

We also went to an English-style tea emporium and I over-sweetened my peach apricot tea till it was undrinkable, but my hot ham and cheese sandwich was very good.   I’d like to go back and try something else perhaps.

But, obviously, based on the conversation, and the sorts of expression and body language that one can decipher only from spending time with someone, she is sort of lonely and down and trapped. Or at least having some of those feelings right now. And as much as I yearn for love and connection, the whole exhaustive needs that marriage both creates and requires aren’t always to the benefit of those involved.  It takes a lot, and while I miss the liberating and exciting parts that someone adoring you would bring, I do feel relieved that I don’t have the manacles on my life.

It’s a balance that we’ve both got out of whack in different ways.  But she got to vent and I think that’s a valuable thing we could do for her.

More good plans for tomorrow, time to do a bit more for me.  That matters, too.

 

 

 

 

They Called It Effervescent

500 words.

Easy as pie.

It’s just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

Still need to do the bike ride and the situps.  Took a nice walk  – about a mile and a third – and I feel like the bump in the road is beginning to pass.  I woke up early, though well past the actual alarm I’d set and made my way to the market, and I’ve just felt a bit groggy all day.  I sort of promised myself I’d do my best to let the fan blow cold over my belly and bring on a swift evening, recoup some of the interest on this sleep debt I am burdened with.

But now I have started reading the posts about the Gentlemen of the Road tour and I am all a’flutter with excitement.

Yes, before I fly through the firmament of dream and delight, I had better keep my feet on the ground.  Or the pedals and do my post and exercise.   Doing that bike ride at ten minutes to midnight doesn’t do anyone any favors, and again I’m dragging us all in that direction.   Daydream is healing me from my troubles, but oh, wow, the time it takes to salve myself up.

So, a small thing.  A friend mentioned throughout these pages, one who was in a terrible climbing accident two years ago…an accident where for several months we did not know whether he would live or have much safe to call life if he survived, turned up to say hello.  To all of us, obviously, not just me, though it was me who he saw first and gasped a sharp hello before it became clear that he wanted to keep his arrival a secret.  I knowingly smiled and put a finger to my lips while he crept up and surprised every one else.  All six or seven of us who were around at the time and knew the story, had been so worried over him.   It was some relief to be hugged by him, greeted by him.   He’s practically the only person even with ten years of my age that is about and he’s moved all the way to Texas, so I looked upon him with something of a shipwrecked soul spying land.   This is a terrible metaphor for a feeling that is much less precise than that, much less about wishing to seize upon him with kisses than the words faded crush might imply.   He is a novelty made into a hero made into a genuine miracle made into this strange shadow of lives not lead.

Still, I don’t mind his arm briefly around me.

Despite all reports to the contrary, I am not made of stone.

So once that happened, I wandered off and got my roots done and my hair sheared off so that it’s rather Thor-esque and I like it quite a bit.  It isn’t Jesus come again in follicle form, but it’s nice and flippy.

Tomorrow: a family party.  Perhaps with a beet.

Misanthropy Parties

Thank the Maker for friends especially friends as dear as mine.

I love that I’ve had to invent a word for what we’re talking about right now.  Arachnoequine.  And it means exactly what it appears to mean and how we got to be talking about this insane and heretofore never imagined outside of Norse myth, this little dead-end on the cryptozoological family tree, I have no idea.  I need to make these plans and go see this friends of mine.  I miss her so.

The door is open now and a little cool air is coming in.  It’s been a much better evening than it’s been a day where I had my first frightful pre-migraine light flare situation.  Luckily, it was while I was at work, where I was able to break away and close my eyes.  It was scary, though, because the lights and colors that would, I imagine, induce a seizure were slowly enveloping my vision in my left eye and I don’t know why it happened…I don’t think I was any more stressed than normal.  I’d had my shake, I was on top of it, I had my volunteer come in and then it sort of all went to hell.  My mom’s had them and has described the sparkly seizure worms that can’t bear to look at light, and that’s what I had, so I kind of thought, okay, I need to back off and chill and see if this going to get any better.  For a little bit, it wasn’t and I was quietly and internally freaking about about what it meant, but then I thought I was probably making it worse.

But luckily, 20 minutes passed and it was gone and I just kept my glasses off and rubbed my head and my boss got so concerned about me that he said I should pack up and go home for the day and if I needed to, I could come in late tomorrow.  He said I had been burning the candle at both ends lately which is true and sad and inevitable and I, because I am an idiot, only left an hour early when I was really pretty much fine. He said I should actually rest and I am, in my way, trying to do that in this 80 degree+ house.

So the diet kind of went sideways after that and got all burger-shaped when the co-worker brought them in.  But I am not dissuaded.  Just delayed and unnerved.  So, yes.

I am slowly also cleaning, also writing, also meditating on that nature of good and evil, falling in love, planning to join a writing group (FOR REAL THIS TIME) and there are probably other things I can’t think of now in this grinding heat.

Oh, yes, I will also keep you posted on the very strange septuagenarian who either is recruiting me to run for political office,  trying to sell me on buying some of the stuff he shills, or…some other mystery purpose that frankly, I find a bit bizarre to contemplate.

Today’s advice: life is too short not to go on adventures that might get you killed.

 

 

 

Stopped Thought and Rolled

I am really happy right now.  Not just because I’m sick to my stomach, but I’m actually happy with myself.

I need to get going, though.  Eventful day.  Both in what happened and what didn’t.

The tickets have been procured with little enough bother to myself.  No surprise seagulling to the face or being absconded with or getting obvious fakes or even meeting someone creepy and terrifying in order to obtain my passes to what promises to be a downright religious experience.   It’s a sort of a nod to the powers of modernity that I can click on something running by me in my twitter feed and get the email of someone who has two extra tickets, can email and settle on a price, and have them delivered to me live and in person.  It’s a wonderment.  Should I have paid a lot less?  Sure.  Absolutely.  But! I kind of consider it my idiot tax for not having heard of Mumford and Sons before this.

Alright.  No more music until I’m done diddling around.

Saw my friend who had the accident which you’ll find some posts about it you go back the hundreds and hundreds of posts that are between right now and a year ago when it happened. Considering what he went through – that his life exists at all is miraculous and good and perhaps indicates some force that can mete out second chances whether by whim or by merit.  We – not he and I – but all of the staff are going to lunch tomorrow, I think.  That is the plan at the moment, but I’ve learned to not put too much stock in that.

Long ago, after I left school but before I really engaged and settled into my new job, I used to dream that the people I worked with at my first job – at a museum – were over me.  That they found some new and wonderful girl and they didn’t care about me or love me anymore.  Had no use for fawning over me.  Not that they ever did, but in the dream, there was suction on my heart that I was just a girl and not their girl anymore.  But I got the chance to actually visit a bit at the museum and they – more than a decade later after I first started working there – do care.  I got shown around the back where they’re remodeling the shipping area.  We talked about progress and change and standing one’s ground.  Twas nice.

Yogurt.  Picture Lucy from I Love Lucy trying to manipulate a sprinkle dispenser and ending up with it sort of uncontrollably spewing chocolate sprinkles all over.  That was me.  Luckily, it was laughable not expensive and terrible.  But we checked out the new place and learned that there’s a new, eco-friendly burger bar next to the education-friendly yogurt bar.  The strip mall is just about filled which is wonderful.  It’s like you can feel a positive change in the air.  At least in that regard.

Um, there were other things, beautiful horses, thoughts on food and love and intention.

And there’s a WHOLE OTHER post that should be written tonight but another post came out instead.  So, tomorrow, when it applies…you’ll see it.

TOMORROW IT IS FRIDAY.  FRIDAY.  AND AFTER THAT COMES NOTHING.  – Sartre, if he were penning Rebecca Black tunes.

Laughter Check

I am bad at snow driving.  Driving in general, but definitely snow driving.  This is not only due to the fact that I genuinely have a bad car for conditions (no 4WD, I’m shocked I’m able to keep a scraper in it, and tires that are pretty much as smooth as a baby’s bottom), but because I make bad snow decisions.

This morning the sky was gray and it was snowing at the lightest intensity it could before you could no longer call it snow and just refer to the precipitation as a heavy mist, and even though I certainly wasn’t jumping up and down about it, it was doable.  And it was doable all the way until about five or six minutes from work when the snow started to suddenly get thick and heavy and I pressed my brakes and skidded and wiggled a bit.   As a result, I decided, to just go the back way, and of course, the snow worsens and I just want to get to work, so, I despite that I’m on a big wide road with no real traffic, I manage to fishtail about and come within 6 inches of hitting the curb.  Oh, clever, clever girl.

Okay, that’s important, blah, blah, blah, life is very strange and ridiculous and I survive it and I do alright.  I didn’t break my car or my face, and that’s really the main thing.  Went to lunch with the office people and the snow slowly dissipated and I was able to drive home and get dinner completely unscathed so that’s all good.

What IS important is that I am achieving one of my weekend goals of awesomeness:  laughter. Laughing like death is an alternative to keeping on laughing but going ahead and keeping on laughing anyway.  Supernatural tonight was probably one of its best episodes ever which is something that you’d really only understand if you’d been watching it for a while if not since its inception.  I was pretty sure that my innards were going to spontaneously explode or combust or slaughter me with joy.  It was just perfection and after last week’s disappointment, I was pretty fucking delighted.  Meta beyond meta beyond meta.

And now, on top of that, I get to chat with my friends and they are so wonderful.  No, seriously, I know people say that (particularly when they’re drunk) but my friends are tremendous people and good people and more than that they make me laugh so hard.  I haven’t had that kind of unbound deep psychic release in…a while.   Where you don’t have to be any particular kind of person but who you are and who you are is funny and okay.  I love that.  I need that.  I miss that.  All the work laughter lately feels forced and followed by hidden eye rolling.

And now, we’re going to watch Birdemic and that’s pretty much the end of any humor dysfunction I might be suffering from.

Holy, holy hallelujah.  We are children of little sorrow and great joy.

 

Andromeda, Perseus, and the Sea Monster

I’ve been so distracted by media and the trappings of the modern world today that I looked up at the clock and almost was sick by the time.  It seemed to come very close today that I might not have posted and that just wouldn’t do, ladies and gents, not when we’re on the second year of this.  It would be an enormous letdown to have the day where I miss a post not be a day where I’ve been skydiving or falling in love with some tall, dark, and handsome cliche or becoming poet laureate.  It would be pretty lame to have it just be me not being on the ball.

So, I’ve settled the noises and the lights and I’ve opened the laptop and the little window into your world emerges, a bit greased and smog-rimmed, but there, nonetheless.  You and I are bound together by this quicksilver tether so thin as to seem invisible and when we take a breath and let all of the chaos that is a human life dissipate into the dusky, rainswept remains of a day, we connect.  For a brief time, while we concentrate and relax our muscles, warm our extremities, let sensation win over analysis, we are in one room and we are saying all that there is to say.

The sister is working an overnight shift, so the usual light is off, the usual feeling of not being alone with yourself is off, my shoulders are well and truly greeting my earlobes until I recognize the hunching and force them back down.  I did not exercise or eat particularly well today, thinking it was going to be another day of spelunking the bowels of the retail earth about here and we didn’t end up doing that.  So meals happened awkwardly and not with intention and time frittered away from me.  I played games and stared in the middle distances and took a long, luxurious bath without a book because I didn’t even want the bother of having to hold it open.  I was ridiculously, extravagantly, and wholly a creature of whim. 

Which is nice work if you can get it.

But they don’t employ you there for long before you’re back out on the streets.  I didn’t exercise today and that’s pretty frustrating since I genuinely like it.  Genuinely, not just saying that because it makes me sound like a better person than I actually am.  But it’s 10:52 now and I don’t see the sense in racing around on the bike.  I did try and get a walking game at the game store, but apparently it’s about 2 years too old to be available at a store, so I’ll probably order it right now and it’ll make me feel far less guilty.

If I seem to be talking in a somewhat verbose manner, it’s just the language rubbing off from watching Downton Abbey with my friends upon whom I am now afflicting all my British television passions and they are afflicting right back.

Love is admiring the passion in another while possibly being unmoved by the source of their passion.  When that source takes hold of you, too, well, then…how can you ever be parted?