………i watched the news

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Well. I can officially say this last manic episode is over. Slept for a blessed nine – NINE – whole hours last night, other than getting up once to stumble to the toilet and pee while still half asleep. I feel like a few person. A little slow, sure. But RESTED. Rested like I haven’t been rested in weeks. Thank YOU, universe; thanks for the cooler weather that knocked me out. Thanks for the rain that softens any sound coming in from the open window. Thanks for the cloud cover that darkens the skies so I don’t wake up feeling like my eyes are pierced by light sabers as soon as I step out of my room.

I kinda feel like I’ve been gone on vacation and just walked back into work for the first day. I’m looking around saying ‘hmmmmm…..what needs to be done now?’. Replacement me didn’t just sit on her ass, I see. My desk is spanky bright and clean, including my keyboard that’s now so white I’m ashamed to think how dirty I let it get. There’s also more room in general; boxes have been cleared and put away in storage. Entire piles of stuff are gone. And I know as a last fling, yesterday manic me was scrubbing out sinks and washing windows. Such a perfectionist, her. So much better than depressed me, who leaves a big mess everywhere. I like having manic me come in.

Did manage to turn on the studio yesterday and make some headway. Well, I SAY I made headway. What I did was listen and listen, move this slider or that, listen more. I’m still not sure I’ve got it, and by ‘it’ I mean the song. I’ve got the drum kit; that much I’m sure of. Four kicks, a snare, and high hat – they’re proper, and sitting where I want them. My only REAL issue is my lead instrument. I want it rich, but I think I’ll have to snip its balls off (i.e., cut the bass) to get the SONG where I want it. I can’t have my lead instrument where I want AND get the song where I want. Sounds counter intuitive, but it’s not. I’ve gotta get that lead to CUT. Then, I’ll soften it. Hopefully. With effects. Right now, the song feels bottom heavy to me….there’s no sparkle. There’s not a lot of sparkle instrumentally to begin with, which means I’ve got to create it in production. The question just remains as to HOW…..

I’m semi-amused by my work right now. This song I’m working on is not my standard thing. If I was doing my standard work, I’d know exactly how to cut everything. This is a float, an insubstantial mix designed to hypnotize listeners. I can’t really say ‘here’s my bass, here’s the guitar and piano, here’s the violin’ because I don’t have any of that. I tell ya, if I had to produce for a living I’d stick to good old voice overs and bands. I’m jonesin’ for a simple band right now, by the book EQs and effects. SOOOOO much easier.

*sigh* I be lookin’ deep for somethin’ to say about how I feel and all I get is neutral. Nothing. Not even the irrational fears I wrote about yesterday are shouting. I am fuzzy headed, and honestly I’d like to just go back to bed and catch another 3 or 4 hours. I won’t, ’cause tomorrow I be swimming early again. But I wanna.

Not sure if this has any bearing on the price of shit in Shitsville, but I went to bed last night after laughing my ass off at some stand up comedy. Found a great full show out on YouTube and let it run. Laughed til tears came to my eyes. Laughed, hitting the arm of my chair ’cause the laughing just wasn’t enough. Laughed til I was gasping for breath. I don’t often do that. So maybe all that healthy laughter set me up for a good night’s sleep and a non-extreme day. Somethin’ to think about.

So all this relaxed, easy-breezy feeling crap of course tempted me to watch more news than I generally allow. News is, by bloody DEFINITION, depressing. I get angry over a lot of what I see. I yell back at the tv for all the nonsense and unfounded statements people get away with. I feel frustrated over the injustices. I don’t understand why people are so nasty to other people just because of the way they look or pray or choose to live. I don’t know how some people can sleep at night. Doesn’t their conscience bother them? Don’t they feel bad for hurting other people? Why do they do these things? My goddess, I SQUIRM when I know I’ve hurt someone. Even my sister, the bitch who shall not be named. Yes, even her. When I realize I hurt her with the last email I sent out, I felt bad. I honestly took a step back, saw how hurt she might have been, and took responsibility for pushing her buttons ON PURPOSE to provoke her anger. And no, I didn’t apologize. My problems with her go back a LOOOOOOONG way, and there’s too much built up crap between us for me to feel bad enough to actually APOLOGIZE to her. I only own up to my actions. I made some nasty comment out here and caused someone a bad day. Felt bad about that, too. Feel bad anytime I let someone down, even if I know they only want to use me. That’s me; that damned people pleasing me I wish would just go away. Since I feel I am always to blame, I easily accept my part of any wrongdoing. Hell, sometimes I ACHE to accept the blame. I’m trying to be careful these days; accept my part in all of it but not take on the entire burden. It always takes two to tango. I’m not dancing alone!

My head is full of tv images. Neo nazis protesting immigration. Women dying because they’re women. Children imprisoned, raped, left to die. White men in business suits talking about how they’ve got to cut back on jobs and spending and then stepping into a limo. Yep. This is why I don’t like the news: these are the same images that gave me problems yesterday, last week, last month, last year, ten years ago, two decades ago, four decades ago. Nothing’s changed. It’s only become brighter colored and sharper imaged thanks to HD. And now I can get it in surround sound. Oh. joy.

I don’t have the tools, the fortitude to take on the news. Or life. It may not be happening outside MY window, but damn it! It’s happening outside SOMEONE’S window. And I feel for them. I don’t know them. I’d pass them on the street and may not even offer them the coin of human kindness: a smile. But goddess, I FEEL for them. If I let myself think about it too much it could spiral me down into that septic tank without allowing me to take a breath first.

I don’t understand how anyone could let any of this happen. I just don’t get it.

Ok. Maybe news was a bad idea. I don’t want to be that dark today. I want to enjoy this in-between the extremes feel. Back to happy happy nothings. Think about your music. Think about playing games.

…………..trying…..games…..colors music floating dance happy smiles sunshine yellow happy…

No. It’s gone, or it never was there to begin with.

I’ll have to settle for this feeling of meh. Kind of washed out, like the day.

…..Oh, why the FUCK should I have to fucking SETTLE? If there’s ONE curse I’d like to inflict on all of humanity, it would be an infusion of whatever the fuck it is that makes me feel so goddamned unsettled every time I watch the fucking news. My conscience, or whatever the fuck it is. I don’t care. Just siphon some out of me and pass it around. Maybe THEN people would stop killing and raping and imprisoning and all the SHIT that keeps happening over and over and over and over ad infinitum for fucking FOREVER!!!!!

I would hate to be immortal. To have to sit and keep seeing it. Been seeing it long enough. Sometimes I feel like the entire western civilization is only just a wild social defense mechanism. That we created taxes and paperwork, cubicle cubbies and baseball, only to distract ourselves from the savage REALITY of the rest of the world. The war. The famine. The genocide. It seems only when these things encroach on our little fantasy world do we stand up and say, ‘oh, that’s awful! that’s not right!’ and then our leaders tell us they are sending troops and bombs, so go back to sleep, children, dream of taxes and cubicles and baseball. And most people do. They fall back asleep. They forget. They WANT to forget, and that’s a social problem that’s not being addressed enough. Woe be to those of us who’ve woken and stayed awake.

*annoyed and ironic eye roll* No wonder I want to go back to sleep.

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