Hell in a

I thought I’d write a blog, as I haven’t in a while and my whole personality feels changed and like stars that aren’t allowed to live in space.

1. The fact that my blogging came to a grinding halt around the month of that Particular Election and then just gross weird sputters is not a coincidence.

2. I have not been on social media much. But everyone is done past hearing about this. I get on twitter sometimes to check in and sometimes post things about issues I care about.

I cared a lot about coming out day, and thusly said nothing. Paradox? Maybe. It’s a little confusing.

I went to the capitol and participated in some government enough to notice the futility of such things. Remember government? It’s REALLY hard to do government. The rules are always changing and if you want to do anything to make a difference you have to spend a lot of time researching stuff that they are trying to sneak past deadlines at the last minute in the dead of night and change at the eleventh hour. Nothing is sure and nothing is permanent. And the odds are always stacked. It takes lots of money and lots of time. That’s my take on absolutely every single issue ever that matters. Its all very crooked and not at all honest, seemly, or above board. It’s all dirty pool and immoral as hell. And nothing you want comes to pass except failure and evil triumphing. (not always, but hell….) And I’m sorry I just feel tired and cynical a lot now after mostly silently trying and just failing to make a damn bit of difference.

3. As usual, my breath could improve.

4. America as a nation is living on borrowed time. I have no idea if we can work out our differences here and survive as a nation. I don’t see an America as we know it even existing in fifty years (maybe less). The post apocalyptic worlds we acted out in my improv class during the summer intensive program I took felt eerie, like something cresting just over a possible horizon. And this probably is true in other nations as well, it just might look slightly cosmetically better or maybe way worse…. Or maybe other countries are probably also just kidding themselves and its all probably just a matter of time before everything goes to hell as humans are all shitty people to one another.

5. I tried to go on a diet, “for my health.” It didn’t go well. I’ll try this again next week. This has been a stupid year for food and me. This is a long series of dumb stories I’ll discuss later in life.

6. Back here at home, the only thing to wonder over is whether or not there will be a United States of anything at all, or whether it will be torn apart completely by warring extreme factions and then will descend entirely into anarchy. I’m not personally invested in any outcome–hoping only that as many humans as possible can continue to view one another with compassion and dignity and not break down into a state where we are hunting each other through the streets for food and sport. I hope if those days come, I am not marked as an enemy just because I’m not loudly present in some mob calling for heads and blood.

7. I have some seriously intelligent cats. Genius level. A lot of peopl THINK their cats and children are this level of smart. But mine actually are. They invented a cat language to talk to me, and their own games with complicated kitty rules. Make of this what you will.

8. I have not written any songs in well over a year, except for one in which I am sarcastic and talk about how corn is nasty. Because of my 😂vast😂 and diverse audience I shouldn’t link to it–as it has an Extreme Swear Word in it and I do try at times to be Seemly.

It feels frivolous to make music, like I should be making social commentary instead. Then I read my social commentary and think that my point of view is irrelevant and privileged.

9. I started doing improv, about six months ago. Only doing things that were entertaining and spontaneous and ready-made, DIY sorts of productions … only that seems real and relevant in these times. This is not the right way to think about the subject of improv at large…and is not the point of improv at all. The point of improv is fun and child mind…at least I think so.

I felt like soon we shall all be in roving bands of survivors and will need people with Art Memories. People who could call to mind dramatic form or the ways of storytelling or who could record quickly into any phone or tape or format or play/dance/act any collection of ragtag materials. Anything to tell a tale or song or some semblance of the way things were. The tellers of tales. As we sit by fires in whatever we can scrape together. Mourning the loss of all we were in the last days of our precious “civilization.” Sorry. That got weird. I’ll try again later. I’m crusty at this.

Also, everytime I try to do a thing these days I am interrupted often because these are the days of almost constant interruption. This is why you see less of me. It is as though I have forgotten I have a butt and cannot remember how to sit down!

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Hell in a

Flargsday.

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Hello. It’s mid-January and I’m crying in a drugstore parking lot.

Some random person honked at me. In a rude way. Also my mascara is running. Smooth.

I’m not going to pretend to be okay right now. I’m going to go ahead and admit a little bit of New Year defeat and bootstrap it up because my new 2014 thing is Try Again Immediately. It’s going to be a year of Awesome Bold Tries and Massive Honesty and Glorious Spectacular Fail.

Today I found out my Important Medicine Doctor is retiring this summer. This puts a HUGE boot through my plans. I can trace the demise of my sanity back to my really bad reaction over the departure of another doctor of mine, but that’s a long story for another Mental Health Day.

Today I:
1. Am off my medicine routine.
2. Am back on the smack(s):
i.e.
-diet coke
-cigarettes
3. my sleep is screwed.
4. I drank Vodka last night. Yes. JUST vodka. Like I’m in my 20s. But I’m NOT.
5. I’m practicing, but not really.
6. I’m avoiding some stuff and things. and stuff.
7. My Cylon is winning the war and gives me nothing but sass.
8. I’ve been mean to my kitchen so my laundry is giving me the silent treatment.
9. My engineering lacks subtlety or finesse.
10. I’m elderly and boring and Un-Sexy.

Thanks for Flying Emo Airlines. Tomorrow is another Day.

Flargsday.

Smack to the Future

1. I haven’t been well. I had to go to the hospital last night for chest pains and this was NOT a good time for that because I am in the middle of some C R A Z Y interpersonal crap right now that is dramatic-only-to-me. One of those situations where something is waaaaaay more significant to you (who is me) because inside your (who is my) skull you (etc) are the goddess of your (zzzz) own little universe. Like when The Royal Third-Person-in-this has a crush on a celebrity and sees they died on-screen or they’re having a perfect child with a gorgeous model or something. They Royal Me’s clock is t-i-c-k-i-n-g and so All-of-the-Us-es go home and eat all of the chocolate in the entire univers….

2. ker-SCHMACK! AHEM!

3. well. That was very unhealthy, wasn’t it. Anyway. Femme-femme-la-dramatics wasn’t why I was in the hospital.

4. My breath could really, really improve. I think I should floss more. I have become a really unsexy creature.

5. $hi! don’t judge me! It’s not like I NEVER floss or take showers! GAH! I just need to get my priorities straight. The other evening I noticed that I had a gnat encircling my head, like Pigpen on the Peanuts cartoons. I thought daaaaaamn girl…. you have REALLY let yourself go………. it was like that time in college when I let my trunk rot out because I was depressed and couldn’t be bothered to take whatever died out of it. That, is depression. The inability to lift the fork up to your mouth that has the food on it and starving to death. Everyone calls your Death By Apathy a suicide and doesn’t call it depression and mention starvation. They think how could she!? Didn’t she know people cared?!? What about GOD!?!?!?

6. My chest hurts. Anyway. That’s why I was in the hospital. I thought that I was having a heart attack. I was in a great mood, but I had stayed up all night writing and doing work and was in a good mood and had written emails and hit “send” on the last one I wrote which was nice and then my chest ripped in half. I knew it was not just something dumb so I woke Mike up and said “we need to go now.”

7. I ended up thinking it was something gastronomical but I didn’t want to be the girl who went home after thinking it was just something flurpy and then dies in her sleep. They laughed when I said that. So now I have to go to a cardiologist. I’m one-upping this. I’m going back to martial arts. Because exercise is boring unless it’s hard core(ing).

8. I could really, really, REALLY use a time machine. I think the time machine should go to the person who doesn’t need it though, really. Because I’d probably just screw up again, but in the past.

9. The mosquitoes are out of control. Also I think I avoid things sometimes when I don’t know what to do about stuff.

Smack to the Future

Blogathonarrly Things to Do

1. Deal with WordPressissuedammit
2. Stop sneaking out with candy
3. Wash clothes.
4. Clean ears.
5. ReRecord Everything
6. Throw away most of my Evernotes. Into the lava of mt. doom.
7. Drink.
8. Eat salad.
9. Go back on Internet. Keep tweeting into the vast silence that is the void of the blackness that is Social Media
10. Retag everything I wrote ever.
11. Create Charming Videos in which I bother to brush hair.
12. here is an orange. It’s not a Pumpkin but it tried, okay? 🙂

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Blogathonarrly Things to Do

swirly noodles with no water.

1. I ate ramen. no water. I have it swirly.
2. I twittered.
3. I wrote 1/3 of 3 songs. This does not equal 1 song.
4. I worried and slept late. I judged myself harshly by other people’s standards, which people close in who love me don’t do.
5. I stared at water and didn’t drink it because it tastes boring today. I worried about my five year plan.
6. I thought about being provocative.
7. I thought about making pancakes (these thoughts are actually unrelated).
8. I thought about books and realized I’ve had a headache. I realized I’m a vague and gauzy sort and there’s not much to be done for it.
9. I haven’t taken a trip in a while and it’s because I need to be here now.
10. I belong in a mental place I can see off in the future, which beckons hopefully like a star. it’s nice to have a compass, even if it’s vague and you’re kind of flying blind.

swirly noodles with no water.

seasons that creep up behind

Summers.

Typically not my cup of tea.

Last summer (2012) was productive and nice until a crashing tragic halt, the summer before that confusing but Somewhat re-empowering; but all I can remember of The Junes is that they had clear warning signs I did not heed.

Junes are usually a month of crescendo into a fairly sweet-but-odd lull of calm-before-IT in July.

Then August, the month I lost my mom. And then it goes ever afterward. The month from hell. June always foreshadows this, for me. It’s a month that tells me “watch your back, kid.”

Septembers are weird, and lately I don’t know about Denise New Year either (October 1). It was bad this year. Maybe because the August of 2013 was not so bad. Depression came in September.

In general, although personally productive, last few years have been kind of Alone-ly. It’s what happens when you grow up. Maybe.

I tend to negatively self assess. Say I am “bad” at things. Bad at June, unaware of July, miserable at coping with August… Stupidly unprepared for Septembers …

Maybe next June it’ll be different. I’ll see I’m going around the same lifetracks, the same patterns … again.

I’ll notice there is another path. That when the same thing happens in exactly the same way, that’s called Insane.

It’s a trap. And I have to break it. I have to board a different spaceship. No one knows which one but me. It’s mine.

And the one thing I can trust from the last little while, perhaps, the one consistent thing that can show up each day – is knowing my sanity will return to me.

So perhaps I should start calling myself by better adjectives. Because after all, I am still here.

I am me. And nothing will change the fundamentals of Me.

seasons that creep up behind

the August hare

I’m going to tell you a story because I need to and I think I might need some sort of help, at least socially. I do too many things and right now I need to go back to showing up for nothing but me.

It’s impossible to tell anyone this in a way that doesn’t sound like High Drama; so elaborate schemes and hoaxes and dramas come into play. Weird fixations and twisty bend off’s to get out of relationship responsibilities. Eventually I actually DO get sick, but I’ll get to that.

Okay. Let’s pretend I’m a prairie animal. One that runs fast and that’s what it does. That’s its thing. It’s into running fast.

So it gets up to this CRAZY high speed of crazy crazy and then … it gets cocky. It looks to the side, as if to say “hey, fu%#*^rs! Look at me! I’m the fastest mut—
SLAM!

of course, the prairie animal hits the large obvious obstacle looming in front of it. The prairie animal was bragging and looking off to the side. It wasn’t watching where it was going! It was IMPERVIOUS to circumstance!

“It’s her own fault,” say the other grassland creatures. “She prolly had her phone out. *WE* shouldn’t have to pay her medical bills! We shouldn’t have to listen to her whine.”

So, broken and bleeding, the creature slithers into a hole behind a bush behind a rock to heal and hide and think about how stupid she is. Alone. With nobody else. Preferring to be by herself. La, la, la.

And at the beginning, it’s pretty bad, because the crash HURTS… but it’s one of those sorts of things where you fall in public and it’s embarrassing and you’ve had the wind knocked out and your nose is bleeding. You obviously need assistance but all you can think to say is “nope! I’m cool!” as you scream angry tears inside because it’s better to walk calmly away leaving all your dental work on the ground than sit there looking like a lame dope.

So the prairie animal is mostly embarrassed and claws deeply into sick shame alone for a while. This
suits everyone with half a brain just fine – no one needs such complications cluttering up their sunbathing time! But eventually after some solitude in the dark hole, she starts to trust. Others. This goes poorly sometimes because there’s no manual for who gives a flying rat’s bum; but it’s a necessary part of navigating out of the thornbush at the front of the deep pit.

Mostly, she trusts herself. Soon she is peeking out from behind the rock. She looks at other creatures and thinks gah! I could never be that fast again … But she sneaks out when no one is looking. She figures out through trial and error who to trust to guide her through the motions of life now that she’s relearned how to brush her teeth stumps and to un-knot her fur. It’s usually turtles, clouds, flowers, rain. The quiet thinkers who are not living furtive lives lurching toward their own dead ends. Or maybe they have and that’s why they get it – so they are gentle and they make time.

For this she is grateful.

So she learns to stop bragging. She stops running other people’s races.

And at some point, she goes onto the prairie and begins a slow jog. Carefully looking ahead.

If only she can remember to keep her eye on the prize. If she can just remember not to get cocky.

the August hare