hold me mommy!

I have a limited amount of physical and mental energy this week. My head is truly gone. My body is only half here. Ask Ron how many times I lost my car and office keys at lunch today, only everytime I tried to find them. Clarity, attention and energy are fluxing. My head is messed up probably because I tried unsuccessfully to wean myself off of Zoloft. Perhaps I don't need it, perhaps I do. Perhaps the darkness I'm experiencing is drug withdrawal, perhaps it is disease now untreated. But at the moment I feel only half alive in all respects and that is a worrisome condition. My body is also reacting to a bug. A microscopic enemy. A not so gentle reminder that we Goliaths are a quivering gelatinous mass when faced with this David

I'll admit. I'm a little scared. I keep having fantasies of dying here on the couch. What will they say at my funeral? Do you remember as a kid, having fantasies about this or was that just me?

Okay. Focus. I think I am being hysterical. I think I'm going to go get some ice cream and watch Spongebob with the kids.

arrgggghhhh!

When I read stuff like this (see below), it makes me want to tear my fucking eyeballs out of my head. Don't ask how I landed on this, seeking for answers to a quandary caused by a combination of events of late in my extended family & social circles and an argument I had with hubby last night which led us nowhere as these arguments always do. Nowhere except for the land of sour milk and desiccated honey.

http://library.lds.org/nxt/gateway.dll/Magazines/Ensign/1997.htm/ensign%20january%201997.htm/becoming%20whole%20again.htm

Anyone out there care to share in my outrage or are you smarter than me?

more bullshitin'

I've decided that approximately 28% of everything I say is probably pure bullshit. Maybe even 36%. Let's say between 28-36% of everything I say is bullshit. This goes for blogging too. Truth as I'm beginning to see it is that I do care about what I post out there and I do care about who might read it. Maybe I didn't initially in my early spontaneous expressions stage, but I've grown into this and I'm only now realizing it. It's probably behind my scarity of posts over the past year. I think it has to do with my actually developing relationships within my blogosphere and I no longer hide behind the relative comfort of anonymity. But I'd rather have the relationships than the freedom of stranger status. I think it helps me to take pause before I throw something out there, and in this pause I can question my thoughts and my motives and the sequencing of my ideas. I hope it will help me cut out the unnecessary, confabulatory, tangential verbosity that has been my m.o. What I hope will come of this, are thoughts that are a little more developed. I'll still have typos and sentence fragments I'm sure, but I believe they will be grammatical errors within a more delibrate thought train. Although I reserve the right to throw out half baked nonsense when the mood strikes me.

Half baked streams of consciousness like this...

I am developing a nasty case of pink eye. Odd because I've pulled out the "can't go, gotta cancel 'cause I have pink eye" excuse a few times and now I actually HAVE it! I don't think I've ever had pink eye until now. It's not fun. No wonder people happily allow me out of obligations.

or this...

Today I was working with a young man with high functioning autism. I seriously love this kid. He is funny and creative and full of energy and life. He told me today that he actually IS a superhero. "Oh yeah?" I asked, "what is your special power?" He replied that he is a superhero because he is "superheroish." Then he demonstrated his superheroness until I made him sit down and do some breathing exercises.

or this...

I find that when I pull out my laminator, kids who are demonstrating their superhero powers calm down really quick. 'Cause hey... who doesn't like to laminate?

Yeah. That's good fun. Meaningless and trivial information that no one really cares about but it feels so oddly satisfying to throw it out there anyway. Not well thought out...not even thought out at all. When you read it, I'm reading it for the first time too.

But then again I do have a post that I've been working on for the past week. It's all still in my head and I pull it out when I'm stuck at a traffic light. It has to do with the concepts of pleasure and restraint. But I need more traffic lights before I'm ready to talk about this yet.

Pink eye making it so I can't see the computer screen well, which is my signal to turn this off and get some shut eye. Let's hope I can open them in the morning with all the goopy adhesions that will develop as I'm sleeping tonight. The part of me that loves to peel my sunburn and pop my zits will love pulling the caked mucous out of my eye tomorrow. Admit it, I'm not alone in these fetishes am I?!

It's been so long since...

I've done any blogging that I forgot my password!

But today I was struck by the urge to blog. I’m not sure where this comes from, or where it goes when my blogging activity is silent but I try not to question these things too much. I blog just for me. It helps me process my thoughts, but the side effect is often a blatant self centeredness which makes it hard for me to ever read what I have written. Maybe I am like the two year old with a fist full of finger paint, the actual end product is only incidental to the fun of smearing the creamy, cool paint over a clean white canvas. I love the feel of the words as they take shape on the page as much as I loved the feel of the aromatic slime squishing between my fingers. The pictures I create in my posts are probably very comparable to the finger painted masterpieces I made in preschool. But I feel neither inhibited nor advantaged by personal skill level because from my perspective, none of this matters. I do not long for awards. I don’t consider myself a formal or polished “writer”. I have no aspirations of landing a regular column in the New Yorker. I don’t care if I end with a preposition. I don’t care if my page is littered with sentence fragments. I don’t even care if I have an audience. May I reiterate? I blog for me. It is an entirely selfish endeavor. But if this were true, why blog at all? Why not just keep a journal? Why open up the possibility for an audience? Because when I have a journal, I always destroy what I’ve written. I come to hate it that much. I have had journals before, pages and pages of them and with one spontaneous strike of the key, it is all gone. Before the computer, I’ve been known to burn part or all of a journal. I don’t yet understand why I do this. It’s a little like unexpectedly hearing a recording of my own voice, or accidentally walking in front of a mirror in a department store before recognizing my own reflection. Those first few moments before my brain can process its own shell exposes my naked and objective truth. Truth told by how I hold myself, my posture, facial features and expressions. Do I see a happy and confident woman, the woman I aspire to be? It’s a brief glimpse of me from a stranger’s eyes. I have to admit, my usual response is tinged with repulsion. When I later read what I’ve written, I get a similar reaction. What exactly is behind this is still outside of my full understanding. Maybe it’s my attempt to deny, erase or rewrite history. Maybe it’s the blatant self centeredness that I’m trying to destroy, both the tangible and intangible forms. Maybe it represents something inside of me that I do not accept. It's not usually the form that I abhore, but the message. However, when I blog, it nearly always stays put because in theory once it’s “out there” it becomes shared information. I let it stay because I feel obligated to allow it and maybe eventually to face it. It's the mere suggestion of "the other" in this whole process that changes the rules. I don't write for "the other" and in fact I try to ignore the other as much as possible (probably breaking some cardinal rules of Writing 101). But without you, whatever I write is as good as gone.

A few teasers

I told a dear friend the other day about my attempts to dialogue with the fictional George....and how carefully I was trying to convey openness and respect. Then I had to laugh because the only ones who would probably read my post, and the rest of my blog are all atheists who, with the exception of CI, think religion is purely evil! Ah. Well. Time for a new topic I think.

My new topic is still forming but it has to do with the devil in my living room, and in my food and in my car and in my clothes. I'll post on this more later.

I also want to post on my reoccuring dream...which I had again last night. I've been having variations of this dream for the past 15 years!!!! It's different every time but the basic plot is the same.

But as for right now, I'm going to get ready for this week. Kids back in school and the madness starts up again (piano, scouts, volunteering, karate, etc etc etc) and I've got several new clients starting up this week. Time to roll up my sleeves.

I'll be back!

yes....it's that time of year again!

Still 2 am, and I still shouldn't be blogging. But before I finally go to sleep, I feel compelled to start my news years resolutions list....

1-Read more Dr. Oz (and keep reading until I understand it enough to change my lifestyle...yes I DO think Dr. Oz is a prophet)
2-Wear more lipstick
3-Keep a tight fence around work, and not let it bleed into my leisure time.
4-Play more.
5-Meditate more
6-Observe my thoughts more closely, (especially my thought trains)
7-Find new and interesting music (I'm bored with my playlists)
8-Learn basic drawing
9-Have more meaningful conversations....especially with my children
10-Floss regularly

Part three

I'm afraid George, this is where we will probably part ways. This is where every conversation like this goes downhill...fast. This is where we stop listening to each other (assuming we ever did) and all we can hear is the white noise in our own heads. I don't know where to begin, and I think I am afraid to try.

How about we not go there.

That is what we always decide. Instead of going there, we stay on the surface where it is nice and safe. We don't dig through the shit and the muck because then we'll get dirty. Instead we play nice, smile and pass the salt.

It's 2 am. I shouldn't be blogging. But it's bothered me that I've left this dialogue just hanging. Why can't I ever finish it...even with a fictional person??

How about we say,.....it doesn't matter what and how our beliefs differ. But please don't try to use logic to convince me of what you have come to believe is truth when what I see is a reliance on logical fallacies...such as....appeal to fear, appeal to emotion, and post hoc to name just a few. You can't try to use evidence to your advantage and then tell me evidence doesn't apply when it doesn't swing in your favor. Not everything that isn't faith promoting, is anti or threatening to your beliefs. There is so so so much out there that is fascinating, motivating, beautiful...and it is both tangible and unknowable.

Ugh. Forget it. Could you pass the salt please?