I don’t know the date, although I’m 99% sure we’ve just completed Sunday today yesterday.
I think spring is here but I feel disconnected, so I can’t exactly check-in with my bones to tell you.
Staring at a computer screen building a client’s catalogue for jewellery is hellish, even if the images are beautiful and of the highest calibre. Can you say, Monotonous? One begins to sing wholly original songs derived from every swearword and complaint of the moment. These original lyrics are most effective when sung to 80’s rock anthems. Bon Jovi and Phil Collins are favourites. Throw in a little Journey and nearly everyone’s happy.
You know something’s amiss when I have an untouched Snickers chocolate bar on my side table. In plain view. Not only is it there at this moment, but it has been there for at least 36 hours. (And why are ALL the books on said table smokey turquoise blue? And yes, I prefer hardcover books with ribbons)
Another example of how detached/engulfed/caught/sucked-in to the stream of life ‘stuff’ I am right now: I missed Earth Hour.
This is entirely embarrassing. And everyone on the block witnessed my idiocy – my house lights ablaze while obliging corporations, city monuments and good Earthly citizens around the globe killed their electricity for a (fleeting) hour. The horror!
Tonight I stepped onto the balcony to take in the awe-inspiring nearly-full moon and upon drawing in ‘real’ fresh air I realized I had not seen the light of day in over 48 hours. Ridiculous.
Half of this recent abyss has been mind-numbing-catalogue-building-computer-staring madness. The other half: shoulder/neck-numbing-please-make-it-stop pain reaching from the centre of my back (where my wings attach) up through my neck, in through my ear, around my face and into my eye. This wonder-band of searing pain has a magic all its own – causing me to puke (ear induced), go blind (eye muscles) and want to rip off the entire right side of my body above my rib cage. Fascinating.
Last night I couldn’t take it anymore and I went to the dark side. I drugged myself. I hit hard. I ate a whole Gravol. Oh yes, folks, I’m in the big leagues now. I knew Gravol would do nothing for the pain, but based on previous experience, it would knock me out. My theory was that being knocked on my ass for some 10 hours would give the muscles time to stop screaming and take a bloody break.
Drug-induced Recovery (?)
My theory worked. I was dead to the world and allegedly didn’t so much as flinch when Hubby came home late from beer league hockey and made a ruckus four feet from my drug-induced-comatose skull. Ah, the charms.
Then, with all this feeling better business, more cataloguing could be done! Hooray! What joy! Never mind that the sun is shining on our usually dismal grey raincoast… No, no, its catalogue time!
The kicker is that this annoying catalogue project helps feed us. Damn that food and shelter thing. Really, if I didn’t have to contend with bullshit like groceries and mortgages, everything would be hunky-dory. [What in the hecks does that even mean? Hunky dory? – insert info gained by wasting 18 minutes of googling here.]
No really, about this nonsense of having to pay for human necessities… it is complete bullshit. How can I get rid of it?
We could live off the grid and grow our own food. Hmmmmm… I’ve thought about this and while I love the idea of being ‘power independent’ and sustainable—a contribution even—I don’t think I’m interested in the whole life shift that’s still necessary at this point to make awesomeness like that happen.
And, I’m willing to assist in making such things a closer reality. How? Well… not exactly sure yet, but give me a minute.
I don’t know where I’m going with all this. I’m tired, my computer screen eyes are burning and bloodshot. It’s nearly midnight, but my pen kept jabbing me, crying, whining and sniveling to scrawl across my recycled-paper notebook. In the end, I suppose it’s simple: once again I’m waving a scraggly little flag to say I’m alive, I love writing, I love Earth and despite being a minor wreck, I am eternally optimistic.
P. S. There’s also been a life-threatening family friend emergency going on since March 2nd, which is now stabilizing… alas, I can’t go there emotionally yet….. In due time.
P. P. S. Gratitude to Uncle Allan for sending in the Red Cross to check if I was still alive…. ♥
« I Can’t Write Now. . . . . . . or . . . . . . The Nameless Book Project Is No... »