Just one more

It was three, not two. Three humans showed up for auditions last night. I guess I should be happy we snagged a whole other person to come in. Happy enough to say the three that did show were decent, and we’ll probably use them all in the production.

Ah, man…it was cool to sit in the back of the room with the director, like the cool kids. It was cool to give the text to the actors and go out for a smoke while they rehearsed. It was cool to see them get through my words, interpret my directions. And it was cool to see and hear their enthusiasm. My play. My script.

Lots to learn and accept, tho. I heard some lines delivered absolutely opposite to the way I wrote them. I just thought, man! how can you screw up the delivery of that line? But…let it go. This is where it begins to breathe. The director was helpful, pointing out that he finds it a good idea to let people go and do there thing first whether or not it’s good. That way, they feel like their creativity isn’t stifled. I saw that in action, and it worked well.

Hashed out role ideas with the director. We both want to see everyone, give everyone a chance. But knowing some of the actors coming in, we’re already honing ideas. We know, for instance, that the two females coming in next week are both solid performers and either could do any of the roles in the script. We know the scope of one of the male actors who’s always around, and narrowing down the role he can play.

Ugh…okay. And I felt a tug at my heartstrings when roles were discussed. I guess I really do want to play in this, tho I’m also very firm with my decision that I’d like to give everyone a chance. I had this moment of realization: shot forward after a performance, seeing the small venue and small audience. Heard the applause, saw the reaction. The usual reaction: the audience tends to react to the actors more than the writer. Someone in the crowd might say ‘It was a good story!’ but that’ll only be the one. The rest will be saying things like ‘You did so well!’ or ‘I really liked it!’. Their comments will not come to me. Trying to mentally prep myself for that, tho I think it might end up being like the whole role thing – I’ll do my best to say it’s all okay, and I’m okay with it, and expect nothing more, but when that moment finally comes I’ll feel a bit stung.

Well…scout rule. Be prepared. Expect to feel disappointed at some point.

Counter that reaction with your mantra: I’m a real playwright. The US premiere of my work happens in 2019. Yes, another theatre group is doing my work. That’s what happens when you’re a real playwright. Oh, yes…it’s a theatre festival. Possibility of more than 10,000 people seeing my work. No, I can’t fly out for it. Not this time.

And remember to do your happy dance once a day. Shake your butt, swing your arms in the air, and say “I’m a real playwright”.

Hope to stop all this napping. I get up, do some things in the morning, get tired from the medicine, sit down in my chair, and the next thing I know I’m falling asleep. I know it’s what I need to heal, and I’m trying to not fight it. But I feel very out of shape, unhealthy. It’s time to kick this cough and get back to the gym. Back to moving, breathing, pushing my body a bit. We finally have some rain, so that should help pull all the crap out of the air that’s making my nose so bad. Crossing my fingers that this will be it; whatever set me off is done now and I can just get thru the rest of summer.

Tomorrow is my shrink appointment. Meh. Gotta think in Dutch. Try. Maybe I should put on one of my Dutch films this afternoon. Hear it a bit, get it back into my brain. There’s a lot of info I’d like to communicate to him, but I can’t do it in Dutch.

Meanwhile, I still haven’t got back to my artist friend. I haven’t got online and responded to something I need to. Still getting headaches, tho I feel like I’ve just got to deal with it now and then and get some damned work done.

Here comes the lethargy. Took my allergy pill an hour ago.

Maybe one more day of napping. One more day of chilling out.

Just one more.


When will I learn?

My brother began shoving decongestants down my throat yesterday. I’m sick from these allergies, and I think you are, too. Sure enough. Stuff began to drain out of my head. I was so knocked out I spent most of the afternoon sleeping in front of the tv. Snot, coughing, drainage…it’s a fun ol’ time in the household lately.

But DAMN! I shut myself down too fast. I’m not listening to my body. He knew I was sick before I did?!? Holy Hell, I’m off track with myself.

As usual, I’m just out of it. Never really been able to concentrate while I’m ill. When I finally admit to being sick I’m so sick all I can really do is sleep, eat, and drink juice. The grand trifecta of health.

Woke up to see the winner of Eurovision plastered all over the news. Didn’t watch last night; see above for my reason. Gods, they’re letting themselves into the shit next year, aren’t they? Have to say, I can’t support it. Especially after the comment from the winner. Might actually write to the head of the NL Eurovision board and ask them not to go. I don’t believe Israel’s rhetoric any more than I believe the rhetoric from the states. And I don’t trust that it won’t turn into a horrible situation, either with severe political backlash or some sort of attack to prove a point. Nope. Wouldn’t touch that with a twenty foot pole.

Been trying to get my way thru my homework. Lucky for me, the homework isn’t that tough. Back to simple verb conjugation. It’s easy to move on, try to learn other stuff, but it’s important we keep working what we already should know. Been a few months since we’ve had this type of homework. And all the advanced grammar rules are mixing with the basics in my head now: is it a T on the end of that word, or a D? Does it get a “ge-” prefix, or is it one of those pesky irregular verbs? Good to go back and re-work this stuff. If I get 100% on it I’ll feel like I can really move on. It’s in my brain, cemented, correct. If not…well…my teachers have hundreds of more exercises like this one.

Might ditch Beedle the Bard and move onto another book. It’s a step up in reading level, and I’m down to “So and so did something to this thing, and then that happened”. Getting the gist, but not all. Some sentences are just too far beyond me. I don’t recognize one bleeding word in those damn things. Others are simpler. And, nod to myself, I caught another name change and this time got the joke of it. But I’ll need to hang onto this book, and try it again later. It goes on the ‘work on this’ pile.

Here it is mid-May and still no word on the theatre production. I feel like I can’t prod the director again. Thought he was clear in stating ‘after the holidays’, but then I realized May is littered with Dutch holidays, so it might actually end up being the end of the month. I just hope once we get working everyone shows a bit of enthusiasm for the story. I’m beginning to feel like they think my work isn’t worth putting time into, that they feel it’s ‘just her story’ so they can slap it together haphazardly and it won’t matter. Telling myself that’s just my paranoia and bad experiences; it’s not happening this time. Also reminding myself that I held a room full of Dutch people spellbound just by reading one of my stories aloud; anything up on that will be just fine. It’s a strong idea. Even if it gets flipped by performances into the black comedy range, my core message still comes across.

Gonna try to get a shower in today. Nap, because I’m already feeling tired again. See if I can worm my way thru the rest of my homework, even if I do make mistakes. Just get something in on every blank spot. …Gods, I’m so bleeding tired.

Guess it’s a good thing it’s Sunday. A day you can sleep away and never feel too guilty over; it’s Sunday, for pete’s sake! Nothing’s really open and the focus is all on tomorrow. It’s a no-day. A day you catch up on whatever you didn’t finish during the week.

The only thing I feel up to ‘catching up on’ is my health. I’ve allowed my focus to shift off taking care of myself, and I fell ill.

There’s only one thing that matters in all of this: me. Take care of me, and the rest will fall into place. Take care of me, and I can see it through.

*sigh* One step forward, two steps back. When will I learn?


Spent the weekend pouring out words. Emails, a new scene I’m playing with, homework. No words left over to blog with. No words left over for me, either. Ask me how I am and I’ll just sit here and think about it…and think about it…and think about it…

Connected with a friend I hadn’t hear from for a while. We talked, back and forth. She thanked me for being there for her. I’m just so chuffed she opened up to me. She tends to hermit out when she’s down (something I can relate to), and I feel honored that she considers me the safe person to talk to when she’s like that. She lives on the other side of the world (literally), so there isn’t much I can do to help but I’m glad what I can do is appreciated. It’s good to have a friend.

Heading to language class today. Our teachers are coming in special, even tho it’s a holiday. I told my bro he should come along with me, check the class out. I think he could do more if he had better teachers, and I think my teachers are great. A little nervous about it. For one, I asked him to come on a spur of the moment thing. Didn’t pass it by anyone first. For another, his autism. He can be difficult on good days. Lastly – and most importantly – I keep screwing up my teachers’ names. Mixing them up. That’s embarrassing. Hoping I’ll get it correct when I introduce my bro to them. No idea what we’ll be doing. I expect a rather normal class: some reading aloud, a few fill in sentences to work on, and some drilling on verbs and prepositions. I know my brother knows some of this, and some of it he doesn’t know. But now that he’s tussled his way through translating his music theory book, I think he’s ready for a higher level of language work.

Listen to me: taking care of a friend, taking care of my brother. So, Beeps, how do you feel? Huh? Got an answer yet?


Let’s start with the basics, then.

The pustular psoriasis that plagues my hands and feet is back with a vengeance. I hate it; makes me look like a freaking leper. Don’t want to show the palms of my hands because I’ve got it going on there. Between writing, bad weather, and a holiday weekend I still haven’t got back to the gym or done any exercise. My pill time still floats between 3 and 5 in the afternoon (tho at least I remember to take it every day). Sleep is okay. Food isn’t so good. Keep forgetting to eat anything in the morning. Back to one meal a day and quenching any hunger with a cookie. Concentration is alright. I can do my homework for several hours, or read, or write. Not very interested in too much. Avoiding news, per usual. Playing games while watching tv. Trying to listen to my bro, who keeps telling me to relax. Trying not to worry about possible future stuff that might or might not happen.

One thing I haven’t been worrying about is the production. The director told me he was making decisions this weekend, and auditions will be called soon. I’m way ahead on production notes, re-writes, and planning for sound.

Been tinkering with a very tongue in cheek comedy. Not sure where I’m headed with it. Not sure if I’ll even keep writing it. I’m looking at it more as an exercise than as an attempt to actually produce anything. Often I’ve found that I’ve got to get a partial idea out of me before I can get down to the real nitty-gritty. This is what my fingers are typing, so go with it. Run it out. If it works, it works. It if doesn’t…well. I have several ‘comedies’ sitting in my files that I feel aren’t good enough to release.

… … My brother has often noted I work with fire. Hammer at things until I think they’re perfect. It’s one way to work, and it gets results. But lately I’m trying to be less constraining with myself. Allow the rough chops to be seen sometimes. Allow the imperfections to be noticed. Hell, woman! You just did a bleeding ‘comedy’ with the theatre group that actually contained only one or two good jokes every scene. You know you can do better than that! Okay, okay. I hear ya. I’m sitting here trying to justify to myself – unnecessarily – why I’m writing a comedy. Let the fire do what the fire does. You don’t have to control the burn every single second.

And I still can’t answer how I feel.

Tired. Bone tired. Want to sleep and sleep and sleep. Almost didn’t get up today but it’s been a few days since I’ve blogged and I figured I needed it. A part of me continues to nag at me about exercise, and seeing the doctor. I’m just so…neutral. Meh. Writing: meh. Food: meh. Homework: meh. Taking care of myself: meh. Slouching more. Not making my bed.

I don’t feel more depressed. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel much at all other than meh. Leave me alone, let me do this. Keep trying, tho. Brushing my hair, doing dishes. Trying to stay present when my bro talks to me. Not doing too well with any of that.

Well, this is new. I’m used to feeling too much. And I am feeling too much. Too much of nothing. Too much emptiness. Too much meh. I can’t quite wrap my head around it. How do you deal with meh? Anger, okay. Sorrow, okay. Mania, even, okay. But meh?

The one saving grace I have is that I feel so much meh I can’t even get excited or worried over not feeling anything but meh.

Great word usage, wordsmith. Can’t you come up with anything other than meh?



Behind the door

Bah. Back to pain. Something else is wrong. I’ve had root canals and tooth problems; this ain’t that. This is an ice pick inserted at my temple and turned round and round for 2-3 hours at a time. This is my ear feeling full and sore, pain radiating down my neck, difficulty swallowing. And sleeping! Twelve to 16 hours a day has become my norm. It’s backing off slowly. If Sunday hit a 10 on my pain scale and Monday/Tuesday were 8, I’m around a 6 to 7. I can sit when it hits – most of the time. But I’m thankful for sleeping so much so I don’t have to be aware of it all the time.

Have an appointment with my GP tomorrow. Will take her thru it, including all the hot spots under my ear, in front of my ear, and at my temple. Don’t want to eat because that’s what seems to set it off. Even now – been eating mush. Really don’t have to chew, just move it around with my tongue and swallow. That’s still too much. Two hours later, I’m pacing and holding my head. Just willing myself thru it until it eases off. Then I’ve got to sleep.

Gods, there are moments when I’d like to just rip my entire face off. Yank all the teeth, cut off my ear and ear drum, rake out my throat. Anything. Even tho the level of pain has dropped, its persistence is driving me nuts.

Looked and found info on a condition termed TMJ, and that’s what I think is going on. My jaw doesn’t click, but other than that, I’ve got all the symptoms. I know docs hate patients who self-diagnose, but I also hate docs who don’t see the obvious, so I’ll mention it. I have to live in this pain box; I know where the limits are. You can think I’m being overdramatic, if it’s just a tooth. I know. I also know what it’s like from the inside, and let me tell you, your diagnosis is wrong. Don’t know what can be done. As usual, I’ll have waited too long. Had I seen my GP earlier, there’d probably be no question. But now some of it is backing off – mostly because I’m not moving my mouth at all, not talking, and barely eating or swallowing anything. I spend hours managing the pain that comes from what little mouth movement I do. And I sleep. I can’t go to my classes, I can’t go out, I can’t really do anything. Hell! I can only sit long enough to write this because (1) I already took a pain pill, (2) I haven’t eaten anything and (3) I lit up a J as soon as my eyes opened.

Too much.

No desire to sit on this thru the holidays. No desire to put up with it for one more day. Don’t want to eat anything today. Fuck.

Taking old ativan tabs. My brother had some left over. They’re 2 years out of date, but he’s kept them in the cool and dark, so they’ve still got a some potency left (and honestly, I didn’t care if I poisoned myself just so long as the damned pain eased off). They do seem to be helping, and if I’m correct about it being TMJ, they should help. Knock me on my ass, tho. Which is fine – I can sleep right now because I’m relaxed rather than being worn down by pain.

My appointment with the dentist isn’t ’til the 28th. Hoping for two things. One, that my GP backs up my suspicions on this TMJ thing, and two, that the seizing is long over before I have to crank my mouth open for an extended period of time. Right now, brushing my teeth is tough. Keeping my mouth open wide enough and long enough for work to be done…ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.

One thing has happened with all this sleep: the bags under my eyes are at their lowest level since I was 40. I knew I was tired most of the time. But several days of 12 hours plus sleep…that’s real tired. Maybe I need something to help keep me down on a regular basis.

Doing my best to stay positive. Telling myself that even if my GP does nothing, the pain is slowly getting better. I just don’t want to invest months in this. Barely talking, sleeping so much, dealing with it, dealing with it day after day even when you think ‘that’s it! that’s the last pain!’ but it never is… No wonder I’m so fucking exhausted.

Sent a text to my language teacher yesterday ditching class. Can’t talk or concentrate. All I’d do is rock back and forth in my chair holding my head. Why bother?

Planning to sleep to tv today. Have to take my pills, so I have to eat something. Ow. I’ll put that off as long as possible. Will take an ativan half an hour before eating. Maybe that’ll give it enough time to relax the area so it doesn’t seize up. Get thru the inevitable bout of pain post eating; I’m anticipating it now. Then sleep. Probably all day. Try to eat in late afternoon so the pain hits in the early evening. Shitty, right? Plan life around when you want the pain to hit. But that’s where I’m at. Get it done early enough that I can sleep by nine at the latest.

There’s very little left to life when you’re compartmentalizing agonizing pain.

I’ve got pretty good at it over the years, tho. Sad to list it as one of my special skills, but, there it is. I’m pleased enough to sit here without feeling the need to nurse my head. To breathe in and experience little pain.

The big pain sits behind a door marked PAIN. And that’s where I want to keep it.

Sick of it. Literally.

Felt it start yesterday afternoon. The scratchy throat. The cough that hurt. This morning I awoke with full blown laryngitis, an annual side-effect of my summer allergies. I’m sucking lozenges, gargling with salt water, drinking juice, and taking it easy.

Suck-ola. Found myself getting angry at my doctor without ever actually visiting: I’m well aware that if I made the foray over to her office and actually wrangled an appointment within the next 48 hours, I’d be told to suck lozenges, gargle with salt water, drink juice, and take it easy. The only reason to go is to have medical proof that yes, once again I am ill. Seems I must justify myself to the medical community before anyone takes me seriously. As usual, I’m physically drained with this, and don’t want to do much more than vegetate in front of the tv. So, as usual, I’ll do that first line of defense on my own and see if it clears itself up.

Script: 4000 words and climbing. I’ve barely begun act 1 scene 3, and have a lot of territory to cover in the next 2000 words. But I’m allowing my characters a bit of verbosity. Easier to cut than to stretch a story. I like my soviet agent. A lot. She’s menacing without being outright threatening. My characters are fleshing out and surprising me. One is funnier than I expected. Another more vulnerable than I thought. And it’s not just the women; the men are more than I expected, too. These disparate roles are ready made for personal conflict.

To round off my life, my brother is on a kick of disregarding me and my personal space. Dirty dishes left piled in the sink. Washed dishes left in the rack, never put away. Miscellaneous shit, like an extra water bottle I’d emptied and put aside for personal use. Oh, was that yours? I didn’t know. Well, did you put it there? No? Then what makes you think it was left there for you? Did you imagine Santa Claus came in overnight and left you a present? Hanging his rain-soaked clothes directly over my face towel, thereby soaking said face towel with underwear and sock drippings. Get the picture? Feels like I don’t exist, my work doesn’t matter, and half the time I’m just in his way.

…Was gonna write ‘I’m sick of it’ and then I realized I really AM sick of it. Literally. Funny how that happens so often in my life.

Well, let’s make this a short illness. Pick up the box of tissues, the lozenges, the water, my pills, and head off for a nap.

Maybe tomorrow will be better.


Fighting that down side. That ever present, soul dragging weight that refuses to let me feel good about myself. I know it’s bad. My work out routine should effectively kill off any bad feelings – yet here I am, day after the gym, working to feel anything other than flat or slightly irritated.

I wanna hide inside today. Watch too much tv, and smoke.

Got an email from the director. Seems we’re all getting together on one evening for promotional pix. Oh, don’t be so impressed. Our promotional pix will consist of someone grouping us together and capturing the moment on their smart phone (they’re all too modern to own an old fashioned camera). And, with no costuming or make-up…Can you see where I’m going here? I don’t expect much.

In fact, I don’t expect to be in the promotional photo at all. I expect the mysterious board will choose the prettiest people to be in the ad. Oh, they’ll take my photo a few times. But use it? I really don’t think so.

No serious writing yet. A few outline adds. A few times of looking at the outline and having my bro come in, look over my shoulder (the worst possible thing you could ever, ever do to me), and break my concentration to the point I close everything down. *sigh* And I’m glad his writing is going so well, his book has so many thousands of words, so many pages, so many graphics, so much. I’d like to concentrate on my own now, thank you very much.

Doing okay with the getting out of the house every day vow. At least, so far. Thinking I might take the metro down to one of the city’s charity shops today and take a look around. I really need something other than my six summer t-shirts and one set of shorts. Not that anyone has said anything to me. But I feel it. I don’t like it.

Heard from a friend, whose life makes mine look like a fairy tale. Honestly, I could write down everything that’s happened to this person and it would read like the most made up soap opera of all time. He’s had more bad news, naturally. Sometimes I wonder if he ever has anything happy happen to him at all. I never hear about it. Once in a while he’ll describe things as ‘fun’ or ‘pleasant’, but most of the time he talks about his pain, his anxiety, his money worries. And I’ve never heard him crack a joke. Twenty-five years of knowing this person. No jokes at all.

Makes me feel pretty lighthearted and frivolous in comparison.

Trying to cut back on caffeine at the moment. My morning coffee consumption just crept up and up, until I was almost at 5 large cups. I’ve read caffeine isn’t good for irritable bowel syndrome, so I want to cut back on it and see how my tummy does. Easier said than done. Caffeine really affects me, and cutting back one cup in the morning for two days in a row has already resulted in caffeine headaches and general sluggishness. Well, better now than in autumn, when I have a schedule I need to adhere to.

Maybe I’m due a day off. No cleaning, no exercising, no language, no rehearsing, no errands. Sit, and wallow.

I know my mind is not all happy-happy. Woke up yesterday with five bruises on my arm from my own fingernails. Seems I crossed my arms over my chest at some point in the night, then dug my fingernails into my flesh. That’s not an act of a happy subconscious.

And rain clouds are coming in. It’s not supposed to rain today!

That’s it. I’m wallowing. I liked the idea the moment I wrote it. I’m too tired, too full-on lately. Haven’t had an afternoon off since I don’t know when. Take a nap. Chill-ax.


Reverse Hibernation

Tired. Like, down to my bones. Every limb feels heavy and stiff. Slept 10 hours and considering a nap. Trying not to, ’cause naps fuck me up more than it’s worth most times, unless I’ve been on a crying jag (which I’ve not)…then it resets me.

Consciously smoking. Cutting down. Reigning in. …It’s as much a pain in the ass process as active listening is right now.

Just want to sleep.

My brain has shut down. It refuses to think of anything more than putting one foot in front of the other. It offers no inspiration, gives me nothing from story-land to occupy my time.

It’s bleak, but comforting. And I think this is the way death comes to us. It tires us down, bit by bit, until we welcome the unending slumber. At least, I hope so.

I hope that’s the way it happens.

Happy thoughts to while away the day, yes?

Ugh. I hate my body when it’s like this. Far beyond just exercise back lash. Fronts have been moving through the area, and long observation has lead me to the conclusion that fast moving weather fronts affect my RA. Summer is always hell. I use selective denial, and choose to remember summers as fun. But the truth always hits me mid-way. Summer tires me out terribly.

Been rehearsing my role. Really have the first seven pages down. Recorded in my partner’s lines for the last half of the script. Now it’s repetition. Perfecting. I keep finding deeper and deeper nuances of body language to use. So much can be said with a turn of the head.

Trying not to worry. Tough, when I’m like this. If I could keep active, keep going…then maybe my mind wouldn’t go so dark. But I struggled to get the dishes done. It was a big job, or it felt like it. Going outside, committing to other activities…I’d drop over unconscious within an hour. I need an extra boost of caffeine to even begin reaching a state of ‘normal’ alertness. A big boost.

Feels like I’m slipping into some reverse hibernation. Sleep away the summer rather than the winter.

…On a cosmic level, that makes sense somehow…doesn’t it?

The Old Fashioned Way

Three a.m. …Three a.m.!

I tried to stay in bed. Honest I did. But the season’s first buzzing insect came in and dive bombed my ear – probably something that, if I heard like a normal human being, wouldn’t bother me but I DON’T hear like a normal human being – and that was it; I couldn’t stand the noise, my head started to race and after an hour of tossing and turning I said fuck it and got up. If I’m dead tired by the time my lesson begins, I just won’t go.

In that strange way that my life persists in unfolding, waking up so early was a good thing. My bro left the windows open last night, and guess what’s happening outside the windows? Yep. Full on storm. I’d have had a very wet kitchen and living room if I hadn’t got up.

As it is, I sit now in the dark, a cup of coffee and a smoke by my hands, listening to the howling winds and pounding rains.

…C’mon. Gimme some thunder and lightening.

Got to the gym on Tuesday, felt damned good about it, too – evidenced by my post. La-de-dah. Is it perhaps possible to have TWO good days in a row? Or is that just way out of line?

Wrestling with formatting the script. Damn, damn, damn. Now I remember why I searched out software for my computer. Bleeding frustrating internet connection and cloud service! Meh. Sorry; I know I sound like a crotchety old lady when I talk about technology these days. But REALLY?!? I’ve lived long enough to see phone service start from shit, go to great, then go back to SHIT with the advent of mobiles. I was there at the hail of the business computer system. Oh, we’ll go paperless, they said. You know what happened? Twice as much paper was WASTED because of the manner that everything got printed out, and copies had to be run because COMPUTERS FUCK UP. And audio? Children, don’t even get me started. I know y’all can’t hear, anyway.

Grumble, grumble, grouse, and bitch.

You know, progress is a clear step forward. Not half a step forward while your other foot slides back into the muck. Humanity’s slipping. Sacrificing quality for speed. Not a big surprise. So many on the planet think it’s okay to sacrifice all sorts of things for another buck.

Haven’t you paid attention? You don’t have more time with all these electronic gadgets. You aren’t better informed. Just the opposite. You’re down to reading tweets as news, and spend all your time with your heads buried in your phones playing games or messaging or doing some bullshit that’s NOT NEEDED.

Like anyone CARES you just took the biggest dump of your life.

Goddamn it!

……Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate starting a day this way. 

Prospects for going to class are diminishing rapidly. *sigh* All I want to do at this point is get my head on straight. After that – class or no class, sleep or no sleep, gym or no gym, work or no work – doesn’t matter.

Oh, I’m off. Well off. Bad dream? Some storm rider, come into my dreams thru the window? Don’t remember. Only remember the buzzing insect, the tossing and turning, then the storm.

It’s a mini bad day. I get them once in a while. Only real solution is the old fashioned one: let it run its course. Get up when I can’t sleep. Write. Watch tv. Nap when I can. My entire schedule will get turned topsy turvy, but them’s the breaks. I’ve tried these days the other way: pushing thru. Does not work well. I snap and bite and generally drive people off. Better to hermit the day away, and fall asleep to the pounding rain.

I don’t need to justify myself


The endorphins have it.

Finally! Feeling energized and if not maniacally positive, I’m at least not thinking the absolute worst. All it took was a few battering my body until it’s ready to drop exercise sessions. I say “all it took”; but yesterday as I was pushing thru my morning pool time I wouldn’t have agreed to such a blithe comment. Somehow I kept digging deep, using every bit of strength for each movement – and it showed later. Exhausted on a level that only prolonged, deep level exercise can get you to. Pushed thru that, as well: dishes, shopping, and making homemade soup all went on the chop block and got accomplished.

Not sure if I slept last night; I think my condition was closer to complete unconsciousness.

Today I’ve submitted a proposal to a theater group for a play based on the WWII Night Witches. Not sure it was the strongest submission I could have done; I thought long and hard about doing something on Laura Ingalls Wilder, with whom I’m well familiar (the theatre group in question requests scripts based on real life women). The Night Witches were Russian fighters, and I’m worried that the fact it’s based on Russian women will result in all those American prejudices rearing their heads and get it kicked out of consideration before I’ve even begun. But I’ve wanted to write about these women since I first read about them a few years ago, so I went with it.

Pulled info for a women’s blog that actually pays money for articles.

Trying to channel my writing. It’s great to free-write, do whatever catches your fancy, but that makes it difficult to write for a living. To write for a living, you’ve got to be able to direct your talent. Write to a purpose. Now I’ve two projects that are directed writing. I’ll see if I can handle it.

Thank the Goddess Wednesday falls in the middle of the week! That was my first thought this morning, and it made me laugh at myself. Wednesdays are mini-breaks for me, in between exercise days and language days, work on the computer and housework, reading and writing.

I might just laze around on today’s mini-break. Feet up, films on, curtains closed. That, despite my not getting to my language work or reading, or my contract work for my bro. I am just that flippin’ tired.

And damned if I didn’t see another dust bunny scooting around this morning. Ran back under my bed, naturally. Bloody annoying things.

BIG NEWS! The theatre group has finally – FINALLY – posted notices for open auditions. Scheduled for next Thursday and the Tuesday after that. I’m fairly certain I don’t actually want to join this group, just use their gathering to find enough people for my own project. Acknowledging that makes me feel pretty petty, and I want to add all my reasons for this unseemly behavior. But I won’t add all my reasons; they should be self-evident.

And I don’t need to justify myself.

All I Want

I am deeply depressed. And angry. And wrestling with yet another headache.

The bee-yotch in my water aerobics for ancient bodies who always fucking gets in my goddamn way told me to ‘let op’ and yelled ‘ow’ when I accidentally half landed on her foot in the goddamn fucking pool because she’s too goddamn fucking lazy to lift her goddamn fucking feet and fucking move at a decent fucking pace. I did NOT hit her square in the face and I think I deserve a gold fucking star for such incredible restraint. The instructor played Toto’s ‘I miss the rains down in Africa’ and I started to cry because I miss Ulla so fucking much. My brain isn’t doing ANYTHING in Dutch anymore. I can barely remember ‘hello’ and ‘how’s it going’. I’m sick to death of these goddamn fucking headaches.

Thought about putting a personal ad out there. “World’s loneliest and most un-lovable woman seeks friend to hang out with. Absolutely no country and western fans. Absolutely no Trump fans. Must be tolerant of smokers and tokers. You’re either poor like me and enjoy pizza and bad films, or rich and willing to pay my way. You don’t get upset when I say ‘fuck’ every other word. You don’t judge, but take me as I am – sometimes manic and sometimes depressed. Good sense of humor absolutely necessary.”

Wonder if there’s anybody out there who’d respond to that.

It’s honest. That’s about all I can say about it.

And yes, I told my bro I’m more down in the dumps than usual. He’s well aware of it and doing his damnedest to lighten my load.

I’d like to just sit and rot today, so that’s pretty much what I’m gonna do. Smoke. Play games. Fuck off. See if maybe I can get my head straight so I have a slim chance of actually making it to my language lessons this week.

Maybe there’s tumor in my brain. Maybe that’s the cause of all these fucking headaches. Wouldn’t that be nice? To be told that yes, there’s a physical reason for it. Hmph. I just ain’t that lucky. I know it’s stress. I know it’s ‘all in my head’. Ha fucking ha. Fuck you.

Doesn’t help that everyone in the fucking pool turned around and looked at me like I just landed from goddamn fucking Jupiter when some AC/DC came on by accident and I whooped out and said ‘leave it on!’. Fucking hell.

Fucking OLD goddamn fuckers. Gimme a fucking break. Not one of those people could be born before 1940. That means they were all pretty young in the 60s. So why are we listening to shit like ‘chirpy chirpy cheep cheep’ and Frank Sinatra? How about some goddamn Jimmy Hendrix or Led Zeppelin? Or even some Golden Earring – the ONLY Dutch rock band to have any hit in the rock charts? No. Lame goddamn fucking music! How the hell is anybody supposed to fucking feel good when you play lame goddamn fucking music the entire time?

Fucking just kill me, why don’t you? It would be less painful.

Still not over this blind rage bullshit. Obviously. The people I don’t want to kill right now are limited to less than 5.

I’m not sure if I count myself among them.

Run. Hide. That instinct is very strong in me right now. It’s the only thing I know for sure that will keep me from hurting anyone.

Wibbley-wobbley. See the ever-tilting woman loose her balance over and over again. Marvel at how far she falls.

Goddamn it.

…….Such a long pause there my screen saver activated.

This sucks. I’m getting hungry for breakfast, finally, but I don’t know that I can motivate myself to get up and make anything. Why bother? I’m fat, so I don’t actually need the calories. And food…continuing this bullshit…I don’t know. Wish I could just turn it all off. Not die, just turn the world off. Make everyone and everything freeze for a day or two or twenty. Go away. No more talking, no more noise, no more people telling me this or that, no more words I don’t understand. Quiet.


That’s all I want.