Plastic Love: Day 40

I have to turn off the light on the dryer.  As soon as I hit five hundred words, I will do that.

Too many cut corners and you end up not knowing where you are.  So tonight, even though I am tired, and there’s technically only 30 minutes left in the day to do it, I am going to buckle down and write my five hundred words.

I had a good day, actually, dear diary.  I did a few things that mildly improved my lot.  I am thinking about all the books I read about cleaning and organization and the one thing that truly helps me is getting things into containers.  Containers actually do force me to visualize how much of a thing I should have rather than believing I have at least as much air as is in my house to cram random shit in.  No,  I have two bookcases and that is sufficient for the number  of books I need to treasure and own.  The rest can live at the library or online.  I now have dividers for the socks and underthings (sorry internet for informing you I own underthings) and I already feel as though I have so much room.  I am trying to kind of Unfondo?  Sort a combination of my own making of Unfuck Your Habitat and Marie Kondo teachings.  Seeing what makes me feel good and glad to have in about 20 minute bursts.  In my case, I have a lot of things I know I want to get rid of, but what holds me back is the idea that I have to do the whole house at once or in one process.  I will never get to that stage.  Probably ever, ever.   So instead, to whirl around and say, shit, I have 5-6 misshapen and useless sports bras that I dig through every time to find the one I like and still wear, along with a huge armful of tights that have runs in strategic places where you could still wear them if they stayed exactly where they should.  Mostly this never happens, but I keep the tights because you’d have to think about yourself as an inordinate destroyer of tights and an overall bad person were you to grant them to the garbage pile.  I have tried to avoid such determinations, but perhaps, in the end, that is exactly what I am.

The dear cat is very unwell, and back to the vet she went today to get IV’d and have fluids put under her skin because she was refusing to drink or eat.  Now she’s perked up a bit, a very little bit, and her eye is all sorts of gross, but I’m hopeful about that.

I’ve watched a lot of Abroad in Japan, for a bit of culture.  There’s certainly more on offer in every respect, things to do, things to read, things to worry about tomorrow.  I’m feeling positive, generally, mostly because the alternative feels so exhausting and there’s boxes out there to put all your bobby pins in so…stay calm.

Snowblind: Day 37

I am feeling positive this morning.  Not entirely sure why given the fact that right behind me is a veritable whiteout situation.  I don’t have to immediately leave work, which is the only way that I think I’m not flipping out.  I will, I suppose, have to eventually leave work.  I’m deciding on the bus, but it’s a matter of whether or not I’m driving myself to the bus station or no.  I’ve got boots in the car, at least.  There is an element of peace working here where I know, on these days like this, crap flying from the heavens upon us, I don’t have to necessarily find the huge well of resources within to sort out how I’m going to sleep at my house tonight.  How, in this 1-3 inches, I will endure?

Maybe it’s the activation energy! Which I announced with an exclamation point as I got myself upright relatively quickly this morning for an early meeting.  Up I rose, careening into the heavy, extensive fog.  It didn’t feel impossible.  Days with an hour later start and I am on the constant edge of death.

For now, at my desk, with a charger possibly in my car, possibly not, typing away as I eat my salad.  I do not violently hate the fact that I have to eat this salad on Day 6 of episode 900000 and 1 of my weight loss “journey.”   It could definitely be a worse salad than it is.  It’s mostly fresh and the dressing only had 3 carbs, and sure, this is the sort of content that brings all the kids and their milkshakes and their music to my lawn.
Spent the evening working on some writing. Not happy with it, but it’ll do for what it needs to be.
Counting that towards my total.  Happy I saw Dimash on my CBS TV.  Feeling decent save for the snow.  Shoulda grabbed those boots yesterday!

Endless Rush: Day 22

Take a breath. Take a breath before the next frenzied announcement that you’ve written lots today, stuff you feel decent about, stuff that was, you daresay, inspired.   Take a breath before you dash, because you, my dearest girl, are in a hell of a lot of hurry when you don’t have that far to go.

This is not so difficult, nor time consuming, that you cannot take a few peaceful moments and reflect.  Look back on this one single day, this infinitesimally small slice of all reality.  Don’t make this carry the universe inside itself because, of course, it already does, and your prodding will not improve matters.

Think about that small victory with IT, helping to fix that guy’s computer rather than wait for a hundred thousand years for a tech.  Think about how that next step in the hotel process has moved forward.  Even if it’s wrong, the needle moved.

No need to barrel ahead and say nothing just for the sake of the number.  No one is in charge of this, but you.  This isn’t saying that it isn’t important to keep your word – because it is  – but you also must understand the spirit of this place.  There is no value in communication a long-form single stream of consciousness that is in response to nothing.  Twitter’s already questionable as hell.

You can think about how marvelous it is that tomorrow is your birthday and you are not actually on fire.  You’re not dating anyone, but you’re not on fire, either.  You’re not drowning in a vat of formaldehyde, so you’re one up on Miss Laura Bow, too.  It’s not entirely shabby.  You have a bottle of water and a writing assignment that makes you that giddy nervous that you’re going to mess it up but it’s so delicious that you’re even curious to see just exactly how that fuck-up will come to be.

It will be a reckoning, no matter what you do. The spirits of Birthdays Past, Present and Future will crowd around with a pack of cigarettes and some half-empty 40s between them, shaking their heads.  It will be quieter than I want, way more innocuous than I might desire, but it will pass without me setting the village alight.  I won’t take anyone out with my annual birthday bloodbath.  It’s just me, sawing on the moon, with my sharp as diamonds little womb.  He will be disappointing.  I think it’s just the relationship now.   I’ve swallowed the truth and now everything tastes a bit of it.

He told me to get some rest tonight.  He told me to run off and sleep.  I said I would and thank you.  As if that time was both agreed upon as allotted and it was his to give back so graciously.  I have to change that.  I have to not live and die by his whims, his timetables…not when the boundaries no longer exist.

Five minutes to spare and oh how you worried.  No, we can do this…if we try.

Go Fit Yourself: Day 18

I have injected the cat with her kitty medicine.  She was a tolerable patient, willing to lap up the gooeyness that didn’t quite make it into her mouth even though, quite reasonably, she hates it.   She’s doing what she has to do to stay well.  Would that I were as amenable to my own self-regard as Miss Priss next to me.

But if I am under the silvery halo of the feminine and the bloody scythe she harvests with each and every adult month thus far, if I am moved to eat every last unholy thing in sight, at least one can say that she is stuffed entirely with a delicious salad and rice cakes.  I’m holding onto that as I shift gears and possibly return to form.  To filling out paperwork and recognizing the evil fact that what happens is what happens.  Not what in all ideal versions of this would might occur.

It’s the weekend now, in case the calendar has evaded you, and the sister returns from Portland, and I am going to briefly stop worrying about this work trip that is not coming together as it should.  I am thinking about the snow that came out of nowhere today, socked us clean in the jaw and has seemingly wandered off to take out some other fellow when he’s least prepared.  I don’t know how it happened to be Friday when the parents were right nearby and could gather me up from work and take me back to their place in the middle of the day so I could work from home. No terrorized two-hour slide to try and stupidly take the wreckage of the sidestreets to back to my house.  I constantly feel granted access to the path of least resistance and I take it every time because I’ve come ignore the heaving sigh of disapproval I give myself.  It’s only me who minds, nobody else, and I’m tired of wearing myself over it.

Sleep.

Three hundred and twenty-nine words.

I am entirely out of words to complete the day.  I could talk about my parents’ terrible arguing, my mother’s anger spiking to another plane of existence, before completely evaporating and if you note the fact that it happened, you’re crazy.  I could note that being all jacked up on steroids might do something like that to you.  I could talk about how J and I hardly talk, it seems, except to lunge at each other and how unsustainable that feels lately.  How Okcupid keeps sending me messages that are all some combination of FWB?  How thrilling the idea a glass of cold water feels right now.  How pleased I was that neither the furnace nor water heater blew up while I was at work today. How I want to like Kahlua, but I don’t think it was meant to be.  How my birthday is coming up and I’m feeling like I might even forget it’s happening.   I could tell you that I’ve done alright this week all on my own.

Haven’t missed you at all.  Whoever you are.

 

 

Ain’t No Gimmick: Day 16

Stitching in time, trying to save way more than nine.

It’s frustrating how the dreams one has at either end of the day never seem to make it through to the other half.  I wake up and am plotting how much power and juice I have tonight to whirlwind some house organization.  Not exactly KonMari it, but do something with the free time and I know I will get there all bleary and ravenous and distracted by the chemistry of my body and collapse into sleep far too late – just before thinking that somehow I will wake up early and be level-headed enough to pack my lunch and do my makeup and be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and hit work early and make something of myself.   Then I always wake up, holding on with my fists, digging nails into the last little segment of sleep as it tears itself free of my grasp…I stumble into work, late, distracted, with more caffeine in my system than I can properly absorb and the cycle begins anew.

I have things to do that help with this.  My plans for life help with this.  I am not, at this moment, following these plans. I need to fill out my daily paperwork.  I need to read the blogs.  I’d allotted for this grace, but dang, it feels wasteful to flagrantly spin about in it.    Let us have a moment of recognition that my suffering is entirely self-induced and can be resolved only through my own instigation.  No one else can stop this train, save me, and the cliff in front of me.

Lame. I thought it was all going to be that piece of proverbial cake.  Just goes to show the power of a little sugar on a plan of austerity.  You let someone remember their hedonism even for a moment and you loose the reins.

I wrote a whole post yesterday about my new, marvelous dentist.  Marvelous mostly for the fact that he didn’t leave me feeling elated just to have gotten out of there alive and having spent less than $200.00.  Boy o boy. High art.  I feel like that’s where the stories are right now for me.  In the extremely specific happenstances of my small and generally uneventful life.  It is in the looking that I will begin to see something and when I blot out my vision and clap shut my dictionary in favor of the blurry images inside my mind, a blindness reigns my spirit.  I forget all.  I find myself at those melted candle ends of day with nothing to show.   This year, I spose, we gotta pour the sugar there.  The energy, the thought, the images, the will.

Today, though, we are able to report that the one or two very specific things I was requested to do in her absence are done.  We traumatized the cat and gave her the medicine she requires.  We scooped her shit.  We’re shortly to wash our hair and selves and somehow find our way out of the Royal We.  We and I also drove the way I wanted to drive, no turning about for the longest long way.   Small, concrete, factual tasks.  Slow and steady.

 

 

Throw Her Over: Day 15

There is a White Russian in a bottle waiting for me at the end of this post.  Or maybe tomorrow.  It exists on this plane.  It’s only a matter of me moving to meet it.

One cat is tenderly, and then aggressively, grooming the other.   Warm and blocking me from stretching out.

A note that what follows is more specifically for me than perhaps other posts may be.   It is entirely a post written to describe my dentist visit. I feel the need to highlight this fact this now that I am aware that some people I “know” read this tiresome screed now and again.  Hard to explain how a post like today’s post truly benefits me but sometimes it’s just a matter of getting through this to get to the next good thing.

Some days you derive power from the weirdest places.  Today, I went to a new dentist and the act of doing so was so significant, I can hardly begin to say.  It made me brave to stay and work from home – it would have been ridiculous to drive forty minutes in for 2 hours and then back forty minutes for a forty-five minute appointment and then another hour and a half coming and going to return.  Now that the dentist is not more than two minutes from my house.

I told the hygienist and receptionist I was super nervous, anxious, but my symptoms were largely gone. I plainly expressed everything I was worried about without couching it at all in terms that might ameliorate this picture of a tragically fearful woman in front of her.  She narrowed her eyes for a moment in a way where you can’t quite tell if she was sympathetic or apathetic to your cause and then, after gagging away on the X-ray camera a few times, we both took a breath and I calmed down and was able to endure the apparatus and she took X-rays that actually looked like something.  As opposed to the blurry, best we could do X-rays at the old office.  She said in a very soothing voice that I had done great, that I was worried, but I did great.

Then the dentist came in and proceeded to be the dentist I’d always thought I’d ought to have.  I think I learned more in that 20 minutes of examination and cleaning than I had in four years of regular service at the fancy, high-tech joint.  And mostly what I’d learned was that the shit they’d been doing to my teeth was not, at this point, necessary.  That where I’d been desperate to get in having run long on a 3 month appointment schedule, he felt perfectly comfortable putting my next appointment out in July.  He didn’t see a ton of gum damage and felt that the grinding was the cause of my former discomfort. He explained about how it’s a natural method of the body to discharge stress and there are things we can do to adjust our habits so we don’t do it as much.  That the jaw was a joint, but we don’t treat pain in it like we do n our knees, for example. He didn’t charge me for 3 minutes of glancing at my teeth after an incompetent tech messed about with them.  And while he talked the whole time about things I was in no position to have a conversation about while he flossed my teeth, I actually learned about plaque development and how to floss and how often and all the things nobody ever bothered to tell me at the expensive office with the 900 signatures and the let’s spend 35 bucks to fluoride your mouth add-on charges I absolutely was sure I had to pay for.

I felt like he knew what he was doing.  I felt empowered to learn more.

I even went so far as to ask about the wisdom tooth extraction.  He was all nah, it’s not bothering you, and there’s only this bit of weirdness and yes, you need to pay attention because bacteria can get trapped there, but no…I don’t feel any rush to do that.  I was positively beaming at that point.  Then, they brushed me out of there with a huzzah, and here’s a toothbrush, and no, my dear, your insurance covers all of it.

The Vile Language: Day 13

I didn’t post while I was up in the mountains. I could have. I absolutely could have broken away and spent the forty-five minutes to add some scattered notes and that probably would have been the wiser option. But old vacation habits died quite hard. I didn’t think about anything but the very moment I was in. I worried ever so slightly about driving or more rightly, being transported to the mountains and if the elevation or any little thing at all whatsoever would have triggered.

I’m hopeful about going back to write about the excellent nature of what did transpire. Not only to fill out the deck, but to explore what is true: Which was the fact that I had an excellent and relaxing vacation – five days par exemplum when it comes to the idea of not being owned by my anxieties. Of properly enjoying a peaceful, mostly spontaneous, stretch of time not owned by my job or some man in some far distant land or of this exhaustive mess of things I have to haul about and care for in my house.  I was travelling light. It was marvelous.

This morning, waking up to see the view in the skylight at the Airbnb of a giant side of a mountain, we got up, got packed, cleaned the house up of all our water bottles, and bottles of booze, and with a warmed up car, drove home in the most glorious, sunny morning you can imagine down and around the side of the mountain.  I felt like I was showing my friends the absolute best of what Colorado can be.  A winter that is sight, but not pain.  No slick roads to contend with, just little gingerbread houses and Red Dead Redemptive scenery.  I was quite proud.

Then, our final meal together: tacos, the best version of them, then a shot to my sister and her boyfriend’s home where they could finally meet some of the most important people in my life.  Then, a ride home and a hard crack as we hit the wall of recalling all the work I was trying to do and the person I was trying to be before I left.  How I wanted to snap right back to work.  Trying to do that by being here and doing this.

But what I’m attracted to in my arrival home is adulthood. It’s enduring one’s own distracted, concerned mind and accepting that there are things that must be done.  Meeting the timelines of my own reality.  Bucking up, buckling down, not crying for someone else to find a way.   Monday – let’s do our damndest to keep this in mind.

Maybe along the way I was hopeful that I would have received some message from the RP’er. Some final moment where he might have reached out and written some kind and final farewell as I endeavored to do two years ago. When I felt the extreme burden of moral clarity and I acted upon it in a moment of absolutely murky logistics. At this point, the google-fu has made it equally morally clear that occurred in a window that is now entirely closed.

So back to the drawing board.  More to say, more to say. Best to stop mid-sentence, leave them all hungry for more.