25 Things To Do When You Can't Sleep...
1. Make a stupid list of 25 things to do when you can't sleep.
2. Visit all your forums. Find nothing spectacular is going on.
3. Drink a cup of hot chocolate.
4. Smoke to excess.
5. Watch the cats spazz out.
6. Wonder why one cat is sleeping behind the microwave and then remember she's afraid of the other cats as much as I am.
7. Worry that the pain in your side is the onset of appendicitis.
8. Pee about a thousand times.
9. Think about cleaning your office. Decide that you don't care your office is a pit.
10. Go back to your regular forums again and find nothing new has happened since your last visit.
11. Consider writing something profound.
12. Fail to come up with anything profound to write.
13. Rehearse the bad dreams from last night in your mind.
14. Wonder what your day will look like tomorrow...oh, that's later today, isn't it?
15. Curse your diet because you really want to eat something fattening.
16. Get really thirsty and not drink any water because a) your water bottle is in the bedroom with your sleeping husband and b) because you don't want to spend the night peeing a thousand more times.
17. Play stupid computer games until your eyes fall out.
18. (DJs only) wonder what you will play on your next radio show.
19. Wonder what to wear later today.
20. Wonder if taking a shower would help relax you enough to go to sleep.
21. Consider sending really obnoxious forwards to everyone in your address book.
22. Wonder why you started this list in the first place.
23. Be relieved that you're almost at the end of it.
25. Yawn. A lot.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
What to Do Today?
Nothing momentous to report. I'm writing this mainly because I'm done with all the usual stuff I do at my computer in the mornings but I don't want to leave cyber-land.
Why am I up so early? I got up at 7 a.m. because Onyx was being a total butt head, chewing on my ear and digging his claws into my neck. I could have just thrown him out of the room and gone back to sleep, but I had to pee and after that I decided I was hungry so I got up.
I'm hungry again already. That often happens when I haven't had enough sleep.
I could:
Mop the kitchen--it really needs it, but I don't want to do that. I never want to do that. Mopping is my nemesis. I think it's been four months since the last time I mopped in there (good thing we have slate grey tiles so the dirt doesn't show!) and a year since I mopped the hardwood floors. There; I've confessed to being a poor housekeeper.
Read. Don't really feel like doing that either, but it's an option.
Practice my flute. I've been into doing that lately. I've finally reached the point where practicing is a joy to me and not something I dread and I'm seeing vast improvement. M. and I play and sing together almost every night, too. Sometimes we do well, sometimes not so well. We have a tentative goal of putting enough of a set together that we could play at the Grand Junction Ren Faire at the end of the summer, but if that doesn't materialise that's okay too.
Anyway, it seems too early to practice somehow. My usual time is two, two-thirty-ish. I find it helps to stick with that routine.
I wonder sometimes about my lack of significant thought. Other people I know who write blogs always seem to have a theme, something to say that's relevant. I don't. I just drift along most of the time and keeping this blog is a random occurrence. I suppose that's why I call it "Random Mutterings."
But then, I don't have a life, do I? My pdoc brought that up, not the last time I saw him, which was just a few days ago, but the time before last. He said, "How can you have anything to talk about if you don't do anything?" My friend S. and I decided he must be a classic Meyers-Briggs "S" type personality, to think that only concrete things matter in conversation. But sometimes I wish I had more of a life. I'd like to do more. Take an art class, for example. I'd like very much to take another dance class, if there were one taught by an instructor I really trusted.
That's the problem with living where I do. I know most of the people here and, face it, except for a few, I don't like or trust them very much. Many seem to be stuck in a party-hearty state which I passed through in my late teens. I just don't find I have anything to discuss with them. And the ones I'd like to know better are all in hiding, as am I.
This is not to discount the fact that I am naturally quite shy and aloof. Maybe it's all my problem. Maybe if I gave other people another chance I'd find someone I really hit it off with. But the last two times I got burned were pretty severe strikes to my self-confidence and now I just don't want to deal...
For the most part I'm happy with my Internet life. But there's a problem with my closest friend being in San Francisco and others being scattered around the globe. You just can't go out and get a cup of coffee with the Internet. I guess you kind of could, but it isn't the same as sitting in a coffee shop and chatting with someone you really feel close to.
I'm sleepy now. Maybe it's time to try to take a nap...
Why am I up so early? I got up at 7 a.m. because Onyx was being a total butt head, chewing on my ear and digging his claws into my neck. I could have just thrown him out of the room and gone back to sleep, but I had to pee and after that I decided I was hungry so I got up.
I'm hungry again already. That often happens when I haven't had enough sleep.
I could:
Mop the kitchen--it really needs it, but I don't want to do that. I never want to do that. Mopping is my nemesis. I think it's been four months since the last time I mopped in there (good thing we have slate grey tiles so the dirt doesn't show!) and a year since I mopped the hardwood floors. There; I've confessed to being a poor housekeeper.
Read. Don't really feel like doing that either, but it's an option.
Practice my flute. I've been into doing that lately. I've finally reached the point where practicing is a joy to me and not something I dread and I'm seeing vast improvement. M. and I play and sing together almost every night, too. Sometimes we do well, sometimes not so well. We have a tentative goal of putting enough of a set together that we could play at the Grand Junction Ren Faire at the end of the summer, but if that doesn't materialise that's okay too.
Anyway, it seems too early to practice somehow. My usual time is two, two-thirty-ish. I find it helps to stick with that routine.
I wonder sometimes about my lack of significant thought. Other people I know who write blogs always seem to have a theme, something to say that's relevant. I don't. I just drift along most of the time and keeping this blog is a random occurrence. I suppose that's why I call it "Random Mutterings."
But then, I don't have a life, do I? My pdoc brought that up, not the last time I saw him, which was just a few days ago, but the time before last. He said, "How can you have anything to talk about if you don't do anything?" My friend S. and I decided he must be a classic Meyers-Briggs "S" type personality, to think that only concrete things matter in conversation. But sometimes I wish I had more of a life. I'd like to do more. Take an art class, for example. I'd like very much to take another dance class, if there were one taught by an instructor I really trusted.
That's the problem with living where I do. I know most of the people here and, face it, except for a few, I don't like or trust them very much. Many seem to be stuck in a party-hearty state which I passed through in my late teens. I just don't find I have anything to discuss with them. And the ones I'd like to know better are all in hiding, as am I.
This is not to discount the fact that I am naturally quite shy and aloof. Maybe it's all my problem. Maybe if I gave other people another chance I'd find someone I really hit it off with. But the last two times I got burned were pretty severe strikes to my self-confidence and now I just don't want to deal...
For the most part I'm happy with my Internet life. But there's a problem with my closest friend being in San Francisco and others being scattered around the globe. You just can't go out and get a cup of coffee with the Internet. I guess you kind of could, but it isn't the same as sitting in a coffee shop and chatting with someone you really feel close to.
I'm sleepy now. Maybe it's time to try to take a nap...
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Upset
So, yesterday in the mail I got an invitation from my old High School to the (sic) "25th reunion of the 1978 production of Godspell." It seems they're doing a revival and have invited all the old cast members to a special showing and party. (It also seems they haven't noticed that 1978 was 31 years ago, not 25, but that's my High School for you...)
This invitation upset me. It brought back a lot of memories of that production and of that period of my life. The production aspect wasn't so bad--I never became close to anyone in the cast but that's me for you. Never quite fitting into a group. My best friend was in the band, though, and we had some good times. And I liked the director quite a lot. Sunday rehearsals also gave me an excuse to skip church, which I had never liked going to, but had to go to as my father was the minister.
But that period of my life was a bad one. I was severely depressed and sick most of the time. I hated school--not because of the classes, but because most of my peers treated me with utter contempt and even downright abuse. My family viewed my spiraling depression as...I don't know what. Just me being a bad kid, I guess. I constantly heard I was "not living up to my potential." I nearly flunked out of Physics and that was a sign I was bad, too, not that something was severely wrong in my life.
I started keeping my first journal at that time.
Last night as we were sitting on the couch vegging after dinner, M. asked me, "So are you thinking of how we can get the money to go back to this reunion?" He asked it with a laugh and I knew he wasn't serious but it made me think. Maybe if we were closer to Grosse Pointe and not in such economic distress, I'd want to go. But why? I can't think of one single person from that production that I'd want to see again in real life. Well, maybe one. But that's not enough to make me want to relive the trauma of those days. So why am I even interested in going? Why am I somewhat sorry that I can't?
I had nightmares about being back in High School all night.
M. is back from the store now and I have to go help him unload the groceries, so once again I am left with no answers, only questions. And I leave you with the same.
This invitation upset me. It brought back a lot of memories of that production and of that period of my life. The production aspect wasn't so bad--I never became close to anyone in the cast but that's me for you. Never quite fitting into a group. My best friend was in the band, though, and we had some good times. And I liked the director quite a lot. Sunday rehearsals also gave me an excuse to skip church, which I had never liked going to, but had to go to as my father was the minister.
But that period of my life was a bad one. I was severely depressed and sick most of the time. I hated school--not because of the classes, but because most of my peers treated me with utter contempt and even downright abuse. My family viewed my spiraling depression as...I don't know what. Just me being a bad kid, I guess. I constantly heard I was "not living up to my potential." I nearly flunked out of Physics and that was a sign I was bad, too, not that something was severely wrong in my life.
I started keeping my first journal at that time.
Last night as we were sitting on the couch vegging after dinner, M. asked me, "So are you thinking of how we can get the money to go back to this reunion?" He asked it with a laugh and I knew he wasn't serious but it made me think. Maybe if we were closer to Grosse Pointe and not in such economic distress, I'd want to go. But why? I can't think of one single person from that production that I'd want to see again in real life. Well, maybe one. But that's not enough to make me want to relive the trauma of those days. So why am I even interested in going? Why am I somewhat sorry that I can't?
I had nightmares about being back in High School all night.
M. is back from the store now and I have to go help him unload the groceries, so once again I am left with no answers, only questions. And I leave you with the same.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Blue and Discouraged
That's how I'm feeling today.
Partly it's because M. is working and I am alone here. He's working a long day: he was gone before I woke up and won't be home until nine or ten tonight, at last report. He picked up some temp hours helping move the MSC book store into its temporary new lodgings in "The Pavilion"--a tent they set up to house all the things that are going to be out of homes once the construction on a brand new student center commences. A book store in a tent in Colorado in the dead of winter: how dumb its that? Anyway, it's some work hours. And though they don't pay much, I should be happy about it. Income is something we've seen WAY too little of in the past year. But I'm not happy. I just want my boo home with me. I don't care if we're even doing anything together. I just feel better when he's here. I know I should be more independent of him, but I'm not yet. And there it is.
But mostly I'm thinking about music. I tried practicing on my Irish flute both yesterday and today and just when I thought I was getting better at playing it, all of a sudden I find I'm not so great after all. I keep hearing the little voice in my head that says, "You can't do this." This is the same voice I heard when I was playing in BSS and I actually was a pretty good flute player. Granted, that was on a silver flute and the two are very different. So different, in fact, that now I can't play the silver flute; the embouchure change is just too challenging. So I feel where, at least I had one thing I was good at now I have nothing at all.
I want to play music again. I want to sing again. Both these things I have wanted since I can remember and I also feel that I have been blocked from expressing myself muscially from many different sources, most recently the bad shit in BSS. It's taken me six years to begin to get over that and start playing again. And I was happy that I was doing it. But today...I just don't feel the joy in music. I only feel the discouragement.
I played a band I knew a little (Beltaine, from Durango, CO...I wonder whatever happened to them? I tried Googling them today and the most recent reference I could find was from 2004.) on my radio show the other night. And I found myself thinking, "Why could we not have been that good?" Why did we have to go through all this horrible dysfunction? Why couldn't I have been that good? Why did I have to let the dysfunction get me down to the point where now I feel as though I am starting all over again?
Because that's what it is: starting all over again. I am trying to remind myself of the first Celtic band I was in, a one-shot put together over the space of two weeks for a St. Patrick's Day gig. (Actually, I think we did end up playing together a little longer than that; I remember doing a Celtic festival with the same folks.) And I was just starting out and I wasn't very good, and I had to keep swabbing my flute out every few tunes just to give my lips a rest. That's what it's like now. I'd like to blame my difficulties on the instrument and say the build-up of condensation isn't flowing properly or something, but it's not that. It's me. I haven't played in six years and now that's coming back to me. also, I'm trying to play on a new instrument in a new style and I can't get my fingers in the proper position unless I take things very slowly and carefully.
I tell myself these things should not matter to me. I tell myself we're just playing in our living room for our own enjoyment and the speed of our playing is not a factor we should worry about. but I do worry about it. I want to play out again. I want to do it now, or at least soon. I want to see some progress that I'm not seeing.
I want to feel like a musician again. i want to merit the name.
Over and out.
Partly it's because M. is working and I am alone here. He's working a long day: he was gone before I woke up and won't be home until nine or ten tonight, at last report. He picked up some temp hours helping move the MSC book store into its temporary new lodgings in "The Pavilion"--a tent they set up to house all the things that are going to be out of homes once the construction on a brand new student center commences. A book store in a tent in Colorado in the dead of winter: how dumb its that? Anyway, it's some work hours. And though they don't pay much, I should be happy about it. Income is something we've seen WAY too little of in the past year. But I'm not happy. I just want my boo home with me. I don't care if we're even doing anything together. I just feel better when he's here. I know I should be more independent of him, but I'm not yet. And there it is.
But mostly I'm thinking about music. I tried practicing on my Irish flute both yesterday and today and just when I thought I was getting better at playing it, all of a sudden I find I'm not so great after all. I keep hearing the little voice in my head that says, "You can't do this." This is the same voice I heard when I was playing in BSS and I actually was a pretty good flute player. Granted, that was on a silver flute and the two are very different. So different, in fact, that now I can't play the silver flute; the embouchure change is just too challenging. So I feel where, at least I had one thing I was good at now I have nothing at all.
I want to play music again. I want to sing again. Both these things I have wanted since I can remember and I also feel that I have been blocked from expressing myself muscially from many different sources, most recently the bad shit in BSS. It's taken me six years to begin to get over that and start playing again. And I was happy that I was doing it. But today...I just don't feel the joy in music. I only feel the discouragement.
I played a band I knew a little (Beltaine, from Durango, CO...I wonder whatever happened to them? I tried Googling them today and the most recent reference I could find was from 2004.) on my radio show the other night. And I found myself thinking, "Why could we not have been that good?" Why did we have to go through all this horrible dysfunction? Why couldn't I have been that good? Why did I have to let the dysfunction get me down to the point where now I feel as though I am starting all over again?
Because that's what it is: starting all over again. I am trying to remind myself of the first Celtic band I was in, a one-shot put together over the space of two weeks for a St. Patrick's Day gig. (Actually, I think we did end up playing together a little longer than that; I remember doing a Celtic festival with the same folks.) And I was just starting out and I wasn't very good, and I had to keep swabbing my flute out every few tunes just to give my lips a rest. That's what it's like now. I'd like to blame my difficulties on the instrument and say the build-up of condensation isn't flowing properly or something, but it's not that. It's me. I haven't played in six years and now that's coming back to me. also, I'm trying to play on a new instrument in a new style and I can't get my fingers in the proper position unless I take things very slowly and carefully.
I tell myself these things should not matter to me. I tell myself we're just playing in our living room for our own enjoyment and the speed of our playing is not a factor we should worry about. but I do worry about it. I want to play out again. I want to do it now, or at least soon. I want to see some progress that I'm not seeing.
I want to feel like a musician again. i want to merit the name.
Over and out.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Another Listy Meme
I have had a cold for the last few days and I am totally whacked out from it still, but I haven't posted here in a while so I thought I'd give this a go...
====================================================================
Post of Threes
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1.Kele
2. Katherine
3. Caitlin
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. Wysewomon
2. Grimalkin
3. Caitlin Ruadh
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I'm a really good cook (does that count as a physical skill? I think it does, so I guess it does.)
2. I don't have an eating disorder any more.
3. I am finally content with the way my body looks.
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I have bad anxiety attacks.
2. I don't get enough exercise (see above).
3. I smoke.
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Pennsylvania Dutch
2. Welsh
3. German
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Poverty
2. Routines
3. Going out of the house
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Coffee
2. Internet
3. Music
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING NOW:
1. Purple thermal jammies
2. Burgundy fleece bathrobe
3. Wedding ring
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Sweet
2. Brian Eno
3. Niamh Parsons
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (RIGHT NOW):
1. "Love Reign O'er Me," The Who
2. "Temple of Love," Sisters of Mercy
3. "Prayer to St. Francis," Sarah MacLachlan
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
(Stolen wholesale from the person who sent me this meme)
1. Mutual attraction
2. Mutual respect
3. Overlapping senses of humor
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1. I am a vegetarian.
2. I've published a book.
3. I used to take LSD regularly.
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX OTHER PEOPLE THAT APPEAL
TO YOU:
1. Butts.
2. Hair
3. Good taste in clothes
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Making Music
2. The Internet
3. Computer adventure games
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
If I wanted to do something really badly other than filling out this
survey, I hope I'd be doing it.
1.
2.
3.
THREE CAREERS YOU ARE CONSIDERING/YOU HAVE CONSIDERED:
1. Novelist (I kind of am one, but not the kind that gets paid :D)
2. Musician (I kind of am one of those too, but my playing right now is limited to our living room.)
3. Veterinarian
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Greece
2. Ireland
3. Wales
THREE BOYS NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Connor
2. Robyn
3. Michael
THREE GIRLS NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Caitlin
2. Rhiannon
3. Breda
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Get a publishing contract with a major publisher.
2. Get happier.
3. Perform music again.
THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I have long hair.
2. I like to wear pretty dresses.
3. I am not the breadwinner in my relationship.
THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I like loud rock music.
2. I don't do a lot of cleaning around the house.
3. I can compartmentalize bad thoughts for an infinite space of time.
THREE PEOPLE THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW:
Whoever wants to.
1.
2.
3.
====================================================================
Post of Threes
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1.Kele
2. Katherine
3. Caitlin
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
1. Wysewomon
2. Grimalkin
3. Caitlin Ruadh
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I'm a really good cook (does that count as a physical skill? I think it does, so I guess it does.)
2. I don't have an eating disorder any more.
3. I am finally content with the way my body looks.
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU DON'T LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
1. I have bad anxiety attacks.
2. I don't get enough exercise (see above).
3. I smoke.
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
1. Pennsylvania Dutch
2. Welsh
3. German
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Poverty
2. Routines
3. Going out of the house
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Coffee
2. Internet
3. Music
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING NOW:
1. Purple thermal jammies
2. Burgundy fleece bathrobe
3. Wedding ring
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS OR MUSICAL ARTISTS:
1. Sweet
2. Brian Eno
3. Niamh Parsons
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE SONGS (RIGHT NOW):
1. "Love Reign O'er Me," The Who
2. "Temple of Love," Sisters of Mercy
3. "Prayer to St. Francis," Sarah MacLachlan
THREE THINGS YOU WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
(Stolen wholesale from the person who sent me this meme)
1. Mutual attraction
2. Mutual respect
3. Overlapping senses of humor
TWO TRUTHS AND A LIE, IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1. I am a vegetarian.
2. I've published a book.
3. I used to take LSD regularly.
THREE PHYSICAL THINGS ABOUT THE PREFERRED SEX OTHER PEOPLE THAT APPEAL
TO YOU:
1. Butts.
2. Hair
3. Good taste in clothes
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Making Music
2. The Internet
3. Computer adventure games
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO REALLY BADLY RIGHT NOW:
If I wanted to do something really badly other than filling out this
survey, I hope I'd be doing it.
1.
2.
3.
THREE CAREERS YOU ARE CONSIDERING/YOU HAVE CONSIDERED:
1. Novelist (I kind of am one, but not the kind that gets paid :D)
2. Musician (I kind of am one of those too, but my playing right now is limited to our living room.)
3. Veterinarian
THREE PLACES YOU WANT TO GO ON VACATION:
1. Greece
2. Ireland
3. Wales
THREE BOYS NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Connor
2. Robyn
3. Michael
THREE GIRLS NAMES YOU LIKE:
1. Caitlin
2. Rhiannon
3. Breda
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Get a publishing contract with a major publisher.
2. Get happier.
3. Perform music again.
THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A GIRL:
1. I have long hair.
2. I like to wear pretty dresses.
3. I am not the breadwinner in my relationship.
THREE WAYS THAT YOU ARE STEREOTYPICALLY A BOY:
1. I like loud rock music.
2. I don't do a lot of cleaning around the house.
3. I can compartmentalize bad thoughts for an infinite space of time.
THREE PEOPLE THAT YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE TAKE THIS QUIZ NOW:
Whoever wants to.
1.
2.
3.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Not Asleep
It's 2 a.m. on Saturday morning and I am writing this blog because I am not asleep.
I tried going to bed a couple hours ago, but couldn't get into dreamland...too much coffee after a very nice dinner out, I guess. I thought about reading Watchmen, but I am too tired to do that. I'm tired of playing stupid computer games, hoping they will bore me into a stupor deep enough I can go to sleep. I can;t practice my flute because M. is asleep. So here I am with nothing really to say except that I am not sleeping. Worrying about money. Worrying (a little) about the fact that I wrote H. an e-mail today thanking her for the validation she gave to me through her spilling her experience with the T.O....a conversation I am not at all sure actually happened at this point. Worrying what I will do if she contacts me and wants to come over to my messy, smelly house to talk. Will I clean? Will I be able to do that?
My cigarette won't stay lit and the demon children are messing about in the kitchen cupboards again.
I ate myself into pain at the re-opening of our favourite in-town restaurant today, so why am I thinking about Chinese food? Oh I know: because I have been thinking about the possibility of having people to dinner again after all these years of not socializing at all. And now I have begun to wonder if it might be better to start slow, with a dinner out on neutral turf. Hence the Chinese food. Everyone likes Chinese food, don't they? Or Mexican.
I have smoked way too much the past few days. Need to quit. Could I do it soon or should I wait until spring when kicking M. out of the house to smoke would be more humane? The weather here is pretty wretched. Though today was a nice day; I got away with wearing a dress and my leather coat when we went to the big city and when we went out to dinner. By the time we were through with dinner it was freezing though.
I am tired of my hair being grey and my eyebrows needing waxed. But my disability lawyer says it would not be good to go to my hearing looking as if I have just come from a salon, so I haven't had anything done about them in a year. It would help me immensely if I had any idea whatsoever WHEN this mythical hearing was actually going to take place, but still no word on that.
Bleah. I am beginning to see double so I think I'll try this bed thing again...
I tried going to bed a couple hours ago, but couldn't get into dreamland...too much coffee after a very nice dinner out, I guess. I thought about reading Watchmen, but I am too tired to do that. I'm tired of playing stupid computer games, hoping they will bore me into a stupor deep enough I can go to sleep. I can;t practice my flute because M. is asleep. So here I am with nothing really to say except that I am not sleeping. Worrying about money. Worrying (a little) about the fact that I wrote H. an e-mail today thanking her for the validation she gave to me through her spilling her experience with the T.O....a conversation I am not at all sure actually happened at this point. Worrying what I will do if she contacts me and wants to come over to my messy, smelly house to talk. Will I clean? Will I be able to do that?
My cigarette won't stay lit and the demon children are messing about in the kitchen cupboards again.
I ate myself into pain at the re-opening of our favourite in-town restaurant today, so why am I thinking about Chinese food? Oh I know: because I have been thinking about the possibility of having people to dinner again after all these years of not socializing at all. And now I have begun to wonder if it might be better to start slow, with a dinner out on neutral turf. Hence the Chinese food. Everyone likes Chinese food, don't they? Or Mexican.
I have smoked way too much the past few days. Need to quit. Could I do it soon or should I wait until spring when kicking M. out of the house to smoke would be more humane? The weather here is pretty wretched. Though today was a nice day; I got away with wearing a dress and my leather coat when we went to the big city and when we went out to dinner. By the time we were through with dinner it was freezing though.
I am tired of my hair being grey and my eyebrows needing waxed. But my disability lawyer says it would not be good to go to my hearing looking as if I have just come from a salon, so I haven't had anything done about them in a year. It would help me immensely if I had any idea whatsoever WHEN this mythical hearing was actually going to take place, but still no word on that.
Bleah. I am beginning to see double so I think I'll try this bed thing again...
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Afternoon
2 p.m.
What I am doing: just finished practicing on my flute for about 15-20 minutes, mostly the same reel over and over. Still tasting my Lean Cuisine lunch in my mouth despite its being an hour since I ate it and smoking two cigarettes between now and then. Debating taking a shower and getting dressed, but getting dressed at this point seems premature as I'll just have to change again for my radio show tonight. I feel like dressing specially for it for the first time in a long while. What I'll wear, I don't know. Debating trying to e-mail H. of the Scones to tell her to contact me if she wants to talk or vent. Debating curling up on the couch with my copy of Watchmen, but that seems a bit challenging, especially as reading it has been giving me odd dreams. Like last night I dreamed I was dating Rorschach--he looked like Daniel Craig under the mask--and we were in my father's old church planning a fishing trip. Weird.
What I've been thinking about: going to Harmony House and Mr. Tony's sub shop with Stef during exam time, the only time that our school gave underclassmen any freedom to get off campus during the day. Walking in the rain with N. and singing the entire score to Jesus Christ, Superstar one August evening in New York as we searched in vain for a place to get a latte. We couldn't find one until we hit the East Village and we walked all the way from 81st Street. Santa Barbara: I hated it there except for the dancing and the food. The food was awesome. I remember the Palace Cafe with its fancy New Orleans menu and wonder if it's still there. I remember Aldo's Italian restaurant: Calimari Picatta and Fettucini Alfredo, yum! Trying to find good Indian food was a washout though, especially when you were used to the myriad of places on East 6th Street in NYC. There was one place but it was very expensive and we didn't go there often.
Food, food, food. I think a lot about food. I think about the days when I was such a fantastic cook and wonder whether they will ever come again. Being on WW, it seems unlikely. I've tried a number of their recipes and I've never found one that was bad, but I miss the freedom of just picking something out of a cookbook and trying it out. I miss the huge Indian feasts I used to prepare before I got so depressed.
I miss dancing. I wish there were a beginning jazz class or a modern class I could take: something not too strenuous so I could get back into shape with it. Something, most importantly, taught by someone else. I am tired of having to create everything I want in my life.
I do not like to get my hands dirty. I want to start over with a clean slate, tabula rasa, and I know this is impossible. I want someone to come into my life and fix the things I don't want to deal with: clean my house, fix my garden and yard. I wonder how I will cope with the latter when spring comes. I look at the calendar and realise that spring is really not that far off: just 2 months until St. Patrick's Day. There have been St. Patrick's Days in the past when I was running about in t-shirts and shorts. I wonder if this year will bring one of them.
I do not like to get my hands dirty. I feel that I am like a baby crying for someone to change her dirty diaper, when I know that I have to do the hard work of healing for myself. I don't want to do it. Still, I have made progress. I have practiced on my flute. I wrote a song. These things have made me happy. Happiness is still an alien sensation. I wonder how long it will be before I begin to freak and back off of it. I hope this time I won't but I don't know.
Yes, I think I may take that shower. It seems the thing to do next. It seems time. Maybe it's late in the afternoon, but better late than never, as the saying goes.
It's time.
What I am doing: just finished practicing on my flute for about 15-20 minutes, mostly the same reel over and over. Still tasting my Lean Cuisine lunch in my mouth despite its being an hour since I ate it and smoking two cigarettes between now and then. Debating taking a shower and getting dressed, but getting dressed at this point seems premature as I'll just have to change again for my radio show tonight. I feel like dressing specially for it for the first time in a long while. What I'll wear, I don't know. Debating trying to e-mail H. of the Scones to tell her to contact me if she wants to talk or vent. Debating curling up on the couch with my copy of Watchmen, but that seems a bit challenging, especially as reading it has been giving me odd dreams. Like last night I dreamed I was dating Rorschach--he looked like Daniel Craig under the mask--and we were in my father's old church planning a fishing trip. Weird.
What I've been thinking about: going to Harmony House and Mr. Tony's sub shop with Stef during exam time, the only time that our school gave underclassmen any freedom to get off campus during the day. Walking in the rain with N. and singing the entire score to Jesus Christ, Superstar one August evening in New York as we searched in vain for a place to get a latte. We couldn't find one until we hit the East Village and we walked all the way from 81st Street. Santa Barbara: I hated it there except for the dancing and the food. The food was awesome. I remember the Palace Cafe with its fancy New Orleans menu and wonder if it's still there. I remember Aldo's Italian restaurant: Calimari Picatta and Fettucini Alfredo, yum! Trying to find good Indian food was a washout though, especially when you were used to the myriad of places on East 6th Street in NYC. There was one place but it was very expensive and we didn't go there often.
Food, food, food. I think a lot about food. I think about the days when I was such a fantastic cook and wonder whether they will ever come again. Being on WW, it seems unlikely. I've tried a number of their recipes and I've never found one that was bad, but I miss the freedom of just picking something out of a cookbook and trying it out. I miss the huge Indian feasts I used to prepare before I got so depressed.
I miss dancing. I wish there were a beginning jazz class or a modern class I could take: something not too strenuous so I could get back into shape with it. Something, most importantly, taught by someone else. I am tired of having to create everything I want in my life.
I do not like to get my hands dirty. I want to start over with a clean slate, tabula rasa, and I know this is impossible. I want someone to come into my life and fix the things I don't want to deal with: clean my house, fix my garden and yard. I wonder how I will cope with the latter when spring comes. I look at the calendar and realise that spring is really not that far off: just 2 months until St. Patrick's Day. There have been St. Patrick's Days in the past when I was running about in t-shirts and shorts. I wonder if this year will bring one of them.
I do not like to get my hands dirty. I feel that I am like a baby crying for someone to change her dirty diaper, when I know that I have to do the hard work of healing for myself. I don't want to do it. Still, I have made progress. I have practiced on my flute. I wrote a song. These things have made me happy. Happiness is still an alien sensation. I wonder how long it will be before I begin to freak and back off of it. I hope this time I won't but I don't know.
Yes, I think I may take that shower. It seems the thing to do next. It seems time. Maybe it's late in the afternoon, but better late than never, as the saying goes.
It's time.
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