Nine hours. Wake up. This medication is like the gentlest alarm clock in the world. I just wake-up. No dragging myself into consciousness, no yawning or stumbling, just open my eyes and be awake. Don’t even need coffee in the a.m. Still enjoy the taste of it, but I in no way need it to get going in the morning. Effing unbelievable, people.
Cleaned the house. Took a shower. Fiddled with make-up effects. Dragged my ass thru my Dutch homework. Even finished (last night) my latest Roald Dahl book. Did not get back on exercise, but I still feel it’s a drop the mic situation. Took care of loads.
Writing is temporarily on pause. I want my routine back. Asking myself for an hour here, and hour there. I don’t need every minute of every day to write this, and pushing myself – while productive in some ways – is ultimately the wrong thing to do. Not concerned about it; whatever this world is I’m creating, it’s so strong it just birthed itself. I don’t have to do much other than sop up the afterbirth.
I am comfortable these days. Comfortable in what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. My hair reflects my mood; I am, truly, a being whose lives in her hair. If I feel tight and constricted, my hair is pulled back into a tight knot. If I feel loose and easy, I’ll wear it down. These days I’ve adopted a half and half look: a loose knot with curly strands near my face. It’s soft and gently, easy and sexy – and not something I can do in front of the mirror. I can only get it correct by doing it by feel. Put me in front of a mirror and I pull a Mom: pulling my hair back severely. It’s functional, but not at all sexy. Let me do it by feel, tho, and it’s perfect every time. Soft, magical, inviting. I don’t know why it works that way.
Got a few more drawings in from my artist friend. They are AMAZING. Not only are they great for what we wanted them for, they’re so great I think they’ll have a lively market plastered on the front of T-shirts. Adding the idea of searching all that out into my ‘list of things to do’ in my brain. Really should start putting that stuff in writing; I’m gonna forget something sooner or later…
Been hearing a revamped version of one of my old songs. My brother is doing a cover of it for his next release. The original was instrumental; he’s adding words. The original was all keys; he’s writing parts for guitar and bass. So it’s a big re-do. And exciting. He’s trying different tempos, different drums. I’m hearing my work in a whole, new way.
My RA has been quiet. The temp has been in the comfortable range, so I’m good in that way. My pustular psoriasis is another matter. All over both feet and hands. Screwed up, I know. Official summer holiday begins next week and I don’t have any more creme for my condition. Shoulda called the doc earlier. Hope a nurse will take pity on me and issue a refill for summer even if I can’t get in to see the doc ’til later. Meanwhile, it’s ugly and, in some places, painful. Mostly it’s an embarrassment. I feel terrible exposing it to the world. Always feel like I have to say ‘It’s not contagious’.
…Just trying to get used to this new feeling. A bit worried we don’t have the night-time med high enough. I’m still obsessing. If not the production, the new idea. If not the new idea, an old song over and over in my head. I can stop it, tho it takes a few attempts and somehow keeps creeping back up on me. On the other hand, I feel like I’m resting at night for the first time in many years. But just yesterday my bro told me to sit down and roll up because I was goin’ too fast… I suppose this is a question for the Doc. Let it go.
Still little to no appetite. Doing my best to remember to take my vitamins at night, have a juice or fresh fruit, and eat when I can. But…food just isn’t on my mind. I reminded myself yesterday at 11 that I still hadn’t had breakfast, then proceeded to go off and work for another 2 hours only to remind myself again at 1 in the afternoon that I was still going on nothing. I can eat, if I remember to sit down and do it. I’m just having problems remembering to do it.
*sigh* Can feel that look on my face. That intense staring. I don’t like to let that out often because it has power. What exactly it does, I can’t say. But it does have an effect. Things happen. My bro would say I’m tapping into the other realm, creating things on the astral plane – and I’ve come to think, reluctantly, that he’s correct. Our thoughts have power over this reality, and it would be blatantly irresponsible of me to let my thoughts wander too much. Nevertheless, it’s there – and I know it well. I’ve learned to put it into my art. Use that deep concentrating trance to my advantage. I call it my ‘sponge’ mode. I am totally open, not just accepting but grasping to hold everything coming in. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the words, the actions – no judgement, just receptiveness. In that receptiveness, there is creation. A free-form association that happens in my brain, tying all sorts of strange ideas together.
I only want the medication to allow me to rest. Stop when needed. Sleep, eat, take care of myself during these times of intense concentration.
Not too bad. I do feel awkward and ungainly in my new schedule, but that always happens when I flips my schedule around. Similarly, I usually have little appetite in summer due to the heat.
So…so far, so good.