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?

Hot, and dead

I shouldn’t even be here. I should be finishing up my coffee and getting my butt to the gym.

Two days of 35+ degrees, though, and I’m sapped. Everything is hot. Been sucking on popsicles to try and keep cool. Feel extra extra tired: not sleeping well due to the heat, and naturally my RA is flaring up a bit. My joints (not the fun ones) feel thick and fat.

Got rehearsal tonight. I’m ready for it, tho I’m not ready to take a hot metro ride down in the evening sun (which is still damned hot) to a classroom which is ALWAYS hot to rehearse for a couple of hours. Hope we can do it outside.

Feel bad for the kiddies who are still in school. Sure hope those buildings have some air conditioning. And let’s face it: doesn’t take much in the way of cooler air to feel pretty good. An A/C that sputters out tepid air would be very welcome.

I’ve got a couple of fans.

Resisting the urge to shave my head. So far, anyway. Can’t guarantee that I won’t chop all my hair off before the month is over. Have to use every single hair pin I’ve got to keep this thick mass off my neck. Nine, in total. And my hair still escapes.

Smoking too much. Way too much. Hate it. Hate how often I find myself reaching for a smoke. How often I hold a lighter in my hand, waiting. Telling myself to take timed breaks – don’t smoke for at least an hour. Hold off ’til after dinner. Small goals. Somehow, tho, the total keeps going up.

It’s not even Summer Solstice and it’s too damned HOT! Goddess! Can I even make it through this summer?

……Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. I think I fucked up my meds. Just had an alert on my computer to take my methotrexate today, but I think I took it yesterday. 98% positive on that. Fuck. Okay. Don’t panic. Just don’t take the pills today. Trust your memory. If I’m wrong and I’m skipping a dose, I won’t keel over.

Go away, summer! This constant heat makes it harder than ever to keep track of time.

Don’t even know the last time we had rain. All the grass outside is dead. It just lays there, yellow and harsh. The kind of grass that hurts bare feet because it’s so damned dry. The world has become a waffle iron, searing its pattern into people’s back and shoulders as they try to enjoy the sun in the manner their ancestors did: by going out in it. Utter madness. It’s too hot, and every thing is dead. Get it? The grass is dead. The trees are dead or dying. Everything is getting seared. Take a hint!

But they don’t, of course. Instead, people body check ME because of my too-white legs or arms while they sport the color of lobsters. Mob mentality. We’re all doing it; if you don’t, you must be wrong.

Go on. You’ve got your manner to kill yourself, I’ve got mine.

It’s too hot to argue, and in the end we’ll all be dead, anyway.

Three Facts

I am up too early and smoking too much.

Did my best to hang onto my high yesterday, but it wore away under the relentless pounding it got from everyday concerns. Dutch lesson: a tragic disaster. My head’s been writing in English, thinking in English – so my Dutch felt more than rusty. Don’t know if I put together a coherent sentence. Didn’t help that my teacher picked a page out of a workbook that was way too advanced for me, conjugating verbs that use ‘zich’ in a sentence. I felt dumber than dumb. By the end of the lesson my head was beginning to come back to Dutch – but then we were saying good-bye, and I was walking home knowing it’s up to ME to keep the Dutch alive in my brain until next week.

Off to the pharmacy to pick up my meds. Contemplated the whole way there. What was the correct question form? Is the word I’m looking for krijgen? Gekrijgen? Am I even in the ballpark? Settled on using a half sentence – I have a text message from you/Ik heb een SMS van jullie. Not great grammar, but I was understood. Stocked up on pills. Oh, goodie.

Off to the gym for a light session. I banged my ankle last time on a machine edge, and yes, it’s black and blue, so I took it easy.

Then there’s the headlines this morning. – !

I’m tired and smoking isn’t helping. But I’ve got a lesson this morning with the teacher who riles me up 75% of the time without trying, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna walk into that classroom without something to soothe my nerves.

Wanna delve right into more English. Edit the last script. Read it, at least. I shouldn’t. I should let it sit. Got class this morning and meeting acquaintances on Sunday for a coffee and chat (see? I AM trying to get out and be social). Should keep my head on straight. …*sigh* Somehow that makes the temptation even greater.

…Oh, I wish I were different. Stronger. More self assured.

Wish I knew what the fuck I’m doing, too.

Right.

Fact: no one knows what the fuck they’re doing. If they claim they do, they’re lying.

Fact: everyone feels insecure sometimes. If you never see them down, they’re faking it well.

Fact: everything I’ve heard about my progress with Dutch is someone’s opinion. I’m doing well, I’m not so hot – all just opinions. I’ve got more comprehension than when I began. I can generally make myself understood. Everything else is cake.

Three facts I need to burn into my consciousness this morning.

Fill it up

Saturday. Summer heat is here. Nights are still blessedly cool, but you can tell the dog days are coming: the shady areas under trees are no longer colder than the sunshine. The earth doesn’t have to suck up every bit of warmth to wake up and get the day started. It’s warm already.

There are a very slim few weeks after the bitter cold leaves and before the real heat sets in when I feel GOOD. That time is now. Taking advantage of it by walking outside in the sun with no jacket on. So pleasant! To not shiver when a breeze blows; ach! That’s a slice of heaven.

Began a bit of research for my next writing project. Reading what’s available on the web. Taking notes. Not really believing it because, well, it’s on the WEB. The web is not an accredited source, which is pretty evident once you begin taking notes and find that just about everything out there contradicts some other information.

Working to get the hate out of my heart. And oh, how I hate these days! There are more than a few people I’d gladly kill. Blow them the fuck away because I think the world actually would be a better place without them.

I’m not the fucking messiah. I can’t turn the other cheek (it’s black and bruised and torn). And unlike Sting, I can’t write an upbeat pop song about it.

Woke up and realized I’ve decided to tell my long term FB pen-pal he can go hang himself. Haven’t done it yet. Haven’t decided on the exact wording. But I can’t be friends with someone who voted to destroy the environment, illegally withdraw human rights from millions of people, and restore male dominance over a woman’s body. This decision goes against my people-pleasing. It’s hard to tell him to fuck off. But…I just can’t imagine continuing any discourse with this person. I don’t want to tell him anything about myself. He’s violated my trust, as surely as if he’d raped me himself.

Hm. Maybe that’s how I should put it. Think he’d get it?

Reading Dutch now with little hiccups. Still many words I wonder about. Do my best to catch the meaning from the sentences. I think I’ve read enough to get a flow going. My inner voice speaks the words out (sometimes VERY slowly, especially if it’s one of those 36 character compound words the Dutch love so very much). Not sure I’m pronouncing some things correctly – syllable emphasis is everything, and when I’ve got four or five syllables to choose from…well, YOU tell me which is correct. And naturally, being a story, it’s all past tense verbs. But my grammar is improving. That was evident in Friday’s language lesson. I heard less correction from my teachers, and saw more nods and smiles. Maybe my Thursday teacher doesn’t like me – I don’t really know, and probably never will. But there’s no reason for me to feel like an idiot. I’ve been studying with volunteers in a haphazardly taught program for two years and I’m doing pretty well. Yeah, the book I’m reading is “only for teens” and maybe the way I pronounce some words does reveal my American roots (two comments from Thursday that are still bugging me), but I’m making progress.

That’s good. Think of positives.

Smoking less. That’s because I made hash brownies. Still. It earns a check mark. Getting fresh air and regular movement. Not my heavy duty work outs, but maybe that’s a good thing, too. Pretty much pain free. Can walk, bend, turn, lift, and use my hands without wincing. Definite positive. Still got great hearing. Ignore the ringing; ignore my stray thoughts that make me wonder if I’m hearing all the life getting sucked from the planet. I can hear, and hear well. Positive.

Now all I need to do is fill up my time…

The Benefits of Talking to Yourself

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My hate meter is off the scale. It’s always been off the scale where 45 is concerned; now it’s gone nuclear. And my hate encompasses anyone connected with 45: his family, staff, and the people who voted for him. I hope every single one of 45’s homes has a huge sinkhole open up and swallow the whole fucking thing while 45 and his people are inside. Disgusting fucking excuses for human beings.  [Note: never miss an opportunity to beat THAT horse. He deserves a whipping every day for the rest of his life. ‘Nuff said.]

If you put in an order for a perfect day a year in advance, you couldn’t have received a better day than yesterday. Warm, but not too warm. Sunny but with plenty of shade under the newly leaved trees. Every window, every door in this fine city was thrown open to the elements. I was out and about, down at the new comic book shop. It was their Grand Opening and Free Comic Book Day. The new space is killer, more than twice the square footage of the last, with a long line of windows along the street that entice and tease curious customers through the door. Never have I seen them so busy! It was great to see, and great to know the shop looks like it’ll be around for a long time to come. Spent almost three hours there, looking around (there’s enough space they finally got the INDIE comic bins out where I can look at them), and chatting. Off to Blaak, and the best Turkish pizzas in Rotterdam, then back home. My day was gone without me even noticing.

Today, there are three must do’s. I must read through the latest chapter of my bro’s work; I promised I would. I must get out for a real walk of at least 40 minutes. And I must open my radio script and begin making the changes I’ve noted after the read through.

Been dealing with some anxiety issues, even one or two small panic attacks. Had a revelation. My panic attacks (if that’s what they are) feel a lot like I used to feel before going on stage. A sinking feeling in my body. Dread. Nausea. Hot and cold sweats. As a kid, I vomited. Every time. But I got over it, and in getting over it I realized I went through all that because I doubted my own ability to get through the situation. Once I learned I could do it, I could put myself out there and NOT fail, not fall on my face, not throw up in front of the audience, that fear went away. I get a bit nervous before performing, geared up, excited – but not that panicky feeling. So, all I need to do is teach myself that I CAN get through it (‘it’ being whatever the Universe decides to throw at me). Simple, right? Doesn’t ever feel simple in the execution of it. I still go through it, still leave my body when I freak out. But I can bring myself back. Eventually.

My sneaky trick on myself worked! Ha-ha!! Now that I’m done with Tolstoy, I’ve chosen Homer’s The Iliad as my bit of English literature. And oh my! Give my Russian names any day of the week over this! But that was the point: I’m making myself choose between reading something incredibly difficult and boring in English or something easy and fun in Dutch – and I’m choosing the Dutch. Maybe I’ll never get through Homer. I’ve ten or twelve chapters to read that explain the text before I even begin, and I’m already bogged down and bored by it. lol. And I’m not sure Homer would appreciate knowing I’m using his work as a way to keep me reading a foreign language. But it’s working, for now.

I should find something similar to do about my smoking. Tho in this case, it’s got to be something more desirable than toking up, not less.

Tough one.

Hope to squeeze enough cash this month to see the new Alien film. Been dying for Ridley to come back to the series, been waiting for so long for the follow up to Prometheus!

…Did I just give myself an answer? Make sure we can see the film by cutting back on smoking? …Yep, I think I did.

See how beneficial talking to yourself can be?

Moving Rock

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I GOT IT! I DID IT!!

Two days before the next scheduled audition date for the theatre group, and the director knows he wants me for the role of Wendy (NOT Peter Pan’s Wendy; we’re not doing panto). Doesn’t even have to see the other people try out. !! There’s plenty of other roles, so I don’t even have to feel guilty over this:

I decided I definitely want you as my Wendy from act 1 together with JR as Jonathan. I thought you both represented the characters very close to my view of the act and the chemistry was certainly there! Very impressed indeed 🙂

Very impressed indeed.

Oh, thank you!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I know I wasn’t going to get all wound up about anything connected with the theatre group, but – WOOHOO! Just gotta celebrate. I haven’t auditioned for a role for 30 years, so going thru the process and winning a position is cause to blow my own horn for a change.

Eeeeee! I feel as giddy as I did when I was a kid and won a role.

The director liked me. I did well. The don’t hate me for whatever reason. I’m going to have loads of rehearsal time, getting me out of the house, away from smoking, and into social situations.

Ah! That’s a better wake up call than a cup of coffee, any day of the week.

Now, let me add to that good feeling.

Wrote out seven pages yesterday; the climax scene in my radio drama script. Kept to my notes, and for once I didn’t add in shit loads of side line conversation like I generally do. Straight to the points on my outline. Haven’t taken the time to read it, but I liked what I was getting while I was writing it, so, fingers crossed it won’t take too much editing.

Took a walk outside in the fresh air and sun.

Saw the first of the new Doctor Who series.

Enjoyed a home delivery pizza. Three, actually. My bro and I built a half and half pizza online, and got an extra veggie pizza with my bonus points (so it was FREE) – so really, tho there were only two pizzas delivered we got three flavors. YUM! An informal household poll last night showed 95% of participants were interested in ordering two half and half pizzas next time so we get four different kinds [polling error: +/-5%].

The one thing I cannot say ‘woohoo’ about is my smoking. Too many butts in the ashtray every morning. But (and I remind myself, here), that’s not bad. It’s just something I want to improve on. It’s like someone forgetting to clean the toilet. It’s gross and nasty, but it isn’t “bad”. It’s a habit that should be changed for health reasons. That’s all.

I had a good 24 hours.

Now, I’m gonna take that goodness and make another good 24 hours. Can’t expect the next 24 to be as exciting as the last, but it can be real, it can be solid forward movement to build more good days in the future.

I find it rather odd that ‘real’ and ‘solid forward movement’ for me consists of getting exercise, cleaning the house, and attending to my responsibilities – all the things that, due to their repetitive nature, can make me feel like I’m standing still. But there it is. There’s that movement by standing still stuff again. Keeps cropping up in my life, reminding me that’s the way forward.

I am a moving rock.

jack

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Still deeply unhappy. Smiling is something I’m thinking about now. I paste one on my face when I think it’s appropriate. And yes, sometimes a real laugh comes out of me, but then it’s back to stone-face, as I call it: too unhappy to twitch the muscles of my face into a smile unless something in me says ‘hey! put a smile on; you look weird’.

So unhappy on so many levels I don’t even want to talk about it.

Gotta go out and be among people today. Talk to them – in Dutch. Gods. Will go to the gym after class. Keep trying to get those endorphins to a level they take over and make me feel better no matter what.

Can’t remember exactly how long I’ve had my hearing problem. I think this is the third week. Still not right. Still have continual ringing. Still can’t hear some things. Next week I’ll make the four week appointment with my doc to complain about it.

Smoking too much. Don’t actually know I want to stop. The goal is to die BEFORE my bro. That thought scares me. It scares me to think I value myself so little. It scares me to think I’m that scared. But I still see the alternative as destitution and loneliness, and that scares me more.

Think I just have to stop with all news. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion. My anger levels rival that of a 20 year old; I’m too wound up and passionate about these things and I can’t find any sense of calm.

No hot water in the building this morning, so no morning shower. Lovely. That always seems to happen to me: plan to take a shower first thing and there’s no hot water. Nothing to wash this grump off of me.

Don’t want to do this. Don’t want to be alive. Don’t want to try so fucking hard anymore.

And don’t ask me what I do want. You can’t give it to me. You can’t give me a healthy body. You can’t guarantee me a safe future.

There’s nothing you can do, and talking about it ain’t gonna do jack.

F*ck

Remember meds refills tomorrow. Don’t forget methotrexate; take the box in (no refill number). Stop by doctor’s office regarding hearing problem.

Today’s tidy up seems so much more impressive after a few days of intensive scrubbing. Things are just cleaner. Unfortunately there’s pain radiating from my wrist, so keep it light for a few days – no heavy lifting, no wonky wrist activity. Better to maintain at this level than overdo it for one day, resulting in long term inactivity – again. Got to put in that ‘again’ to remind myself.

Break these bad habits.

Contracts: ugh. No other word for it. My first form on the chop block was pretty standard. Now I’m stepping into custom territory, and it’s all a big soup of this term or that, specific clauses and uniform language. Taking a day off. Need more examples. Need a bleeding law degree to do this right, but reminding myself that anything I can tackle is one less thing we have to pay for.

Managed to stave off my second smoke until noon. Not as good as I’d like; not as bad as I’d feared.

Really should get into the shower later. I have to go out there soon, and that means people will be able to smell me (even if I still can’t).

Is this repetitious merry-go-round gonna stop anytime soon?

Find myself picking up hard of hearing habits. I tilt my head towards sound sources, trying to make out what’s going on. When people talk, I do my best to watch their lips. It helps me fill in what I’m missing. Ye gods! I don’t want this to become my normal. It’s interesting, tho, how quickly I’ve adopted these tactics.

Worried today. My bro’s in more meetings. Goddess, let things go well. Worried about his stress level, his health, the outcome, finances to cover all this, my health and physical ability to take another move, pain levels, lack of smoke and smoking too much, going off meds (again), red tape, prejudices and national level pay-back.

Worried that no one cares.

Find it difficult to occupy myself during the day when so many of my usual options are closed to me. Shouldn’t even be typing this, with my wrist pain, but if I don’t my head will explode and no one wants that. Music? Nope. Cleaning? Again, nope. Writing? Not right now. Even holding a book hurts my wrist. I really should be sitting in my chair, watching tv, and doing nothing with my hand. Which is probably undoubtedly where I’ll end up.

That just sucks. For a day or two once in a while, maybe. Okay, even. But day after day because of this health problem or that painful joint? Drives me fucking insane. And it seems I always fall into this rut, where one thing after another keeps me down for extended periods of time. Insane laughter upon insane laughter because this is me being kind to my body. Push it and all I hear is ‘you shouldn’t do that’ or ‘you can’t continue to do that’.

Fuck.

Give me a chance

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Small bites: what can I do right now? Break it down.

This mentality has led me to (1) pay for my gym membership, (2) do the run downtown for household smoke, (3) do dishes, (4) make up a batch of my famous blueberry muffins using the last of my frozen berries, (5) begin pulling, reading, and prepping another contract for my brother, and (6) prep for grocery shopping once the muffins are done and dinner is in the oven.

Well done!

In addition: currently smoking my 2nd of the day, which is 2 less than I faced yesterday at the same time.

I am ignoring my continued hearing (and dizziness) problem, just the same as I’m continuing to ignore all the Dutch I read that I don’t fully comprehend. See the positive rather than the negative. I have accomplished things. I am getting thru my current book in Dutch. Have to teach myself to say ‘yea!’ rather than ‘nay!’.

Speaking of reading – currently making my way thru Bridgette Jones’ Diary in Dutch (Anna Karenina in English, but that’s not relevant here). There’s an awful lot I don’t understand, but I did once read it in English (plus saw the films; who didn’t?) so I’m able to keep up with the gist of the story. Thing is, each section begins with a daily total on weight, alcohol, and cigarettes. I find myself relating to it (wonder why – ha) and for once, not feeling shamed as my eyes run over the numbers…20 cigarettes, 2472 calories…it puts my consumption rate in perspective for me. Thank you, Helen Fielding!

Mmm. I’m about to make it rain warm blueberry muffins with cinnamon topping. You really don’t know what you’re missing.

Wowie-zowie! 

Back to Earth: Was encouraged by my bro to ‘stop and take a look’ at a shopping center. Really? When you’re making me sweat the cost of my dental visits? I scoff at the idea. I’ve no reason to walk thru a cake shop when I’m trying to lose weight, either. Gimme a break.

No word from the theatre group. No email, no Facebook notification…for a group that claims to be using all these new fangled gadgets (every single one has a smart phone, tablet, and probably computer as well), they sure don’t seem to communicate much. My bro has called it: amateur. Oh, I accepted I wasn’t walking into a professional deal here, but I didn’t realize it was a group designed to serve the members of the group first and foremost. You know the kind – the group developed as a cover to promote themselves. They were never really interested in new members; not as far as I can tell. If one was interested in new members, one would do things differently. Bloody hell! My mind is made up: I’m not asking, I’m doing. Standing up and asking the people there for help. Not the theatre group; the people there. If the theatre group doesn’t like that – well, I don’t really need to finish that last part, do I?

Feels like all these things I’m doing are little prayers. Supplications at the foot of the Goddess: look how much I can do here! Give me a chance! 

Oh, please. Give me a chance.

This, too, will pass

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My brother is one of those people who like to have some sort of background sound on 24/7, and to that extent, the modern age of iPods and streamed tv works for him. He pops his personal playlist into his computer and lets it run all day and night in his room. He surfs the tv channels to find something non-offensive to both of us (usually Comedy Central) to run a continual stream of sound in the living room. But one must always prepare for the worst to happen, and for my brother (and myself, since I’m the one stuck in the apartment), that means keeping the tv remote close in case re-runs of Melissa and Joey come on (or goddess forbid, Tosh).

Feels like I’m prepping for the worst quite often lately. My mind has begun contemplating the idea that this is it, my hearing will not improve and I will endure with only half my hearing for the rest of my life. I’m considering tackling the Big Clean in the apartment in case everything with immigration goes wrong and we’re asked to leave. And as always, I circle the drain of life vs. death: what’s the point? How much longer must I suffer this existence?

Been watching tv, trying to distract myself from my ongoing hearing problem and associated dizziness. Don’t know if it’s the best thing for me, but I still don’t trust myself with more than walking down the hall or short jaunts through easy passages – still staggering a bit from dizziness. Every morning I hope to hear more than that buzz in my left ear. Every morning I’m disappointed. Crap is flowing out of me; it could be my brains, now liquified from too much self-contemplation. Find I don’t care much. I can’t care much; I’m in overload. But my tv watching exposed me to an episode that discussed ‘dreamers’ and ‘losers’, and made special mention of ‘you don’t want to turn into a 50 year old dreamer who has nothing and has to sleep on someone’s sofa’.

Ouch.

Thanks for that. Thanks for the confirmation that yes, even in liberal Hollywood prejudice is alive, well and very active. Thanks for the social diss. Most of all, thank you for putting it all in perspective: my life, my work, and myself are nothing in your world.

So why do you keep trying to tell me suicide isn’t a good option? Why do you fight me so hard when I mention I have no reason to live? Why do you prevent me an easy option, with people I care around me, where I could just close my eyes and go to sleep peacefully? Why do you continue to force me to endure something I find tortuous?

Why, when I point out this hypocrisy, do you ignore it all and blame me for what I see as truth?

Find myself falling back on an old habit: rocking. Rocking in my seat, rubbing my hands over my pants. Again, and still. Every single pair of sweatpants I have in my possession has the same marks: pulled up fabric knots over the thigh area, where I rub and rub and rub in a useless effort to calm myself (it’s also why I have to replace my sweatpants at such a fast rate; I ruin the way they look within 10 days of buying them). Rubbing my pants is my adult version of rocking. A physical tic I can get away with in grown up company. But in private, I do what I have always done: I rock myself. Back and forth. The rhythm is automatic. It is also something I do unconsciously; I catch myself at it, like coming out of a trance. Geez, I’m rocking again. I don’t think about it. I just do it.

Tears come easily. My mind wanders at will, and I often have to drag it back to whatever is in front of me. Missing large chunks of tv episodes that way. Sometimes I’m aware of only the start of a show. Then next thing I know, I’m hearing the end credits. Conversely, I’ve been able to lose myself for hours in research on legal contracts for my brother – a mind boggling language that demands high levels of concentration. It’s like getting through a maze. I find myself getting lost in side arguments and ideas, rather than concentrating on the main problem. And although my bro is very thankful for any help I can give him on this, I can’t say I feel like I’m making much progress. But it does pass the time.

Nothing is moving fast enough. Everything drags, takes too long. What’s taking so long?!? The days, the nights, the waiting to hear from this person or that, my heath, the dizziness – a week is packed into every day, a month into every week, a year into every month – and yet somehow time flies past me, too: here it is, Saturday again, another week down the fucking drain with little to nothing to show for it.

Side note on smoking: been restricting myself a lot. Four is my top number.

Wish I’d do the same with food; feels like I’ve been gaining weight again. Pudgy. Everything is slack from lack of exercise.

Hang on. When it comes down to it, that’s the only thing left. Hang on. I have great moments of clarity, usually when I’m writing to a friend. It’s not that I don’t mean to share myself with them. Not at all. I do worry about overloading them because I’m well aware I’m in the middle of some sort of episode. It’s outside the norm of my behavior. So I say I’m not bad (which I’m not; at least, not at that exact moment), and continue to act out less than what I’m inclined to. Is that causing this weirdness in me? My attempts to remain calm?

Breathe. This, too, will pass.