.
.
I am not sure what happened. I do know I was falling through the consciousness floor, falling fast and hard, with only darkness below. I fought it as long as I could, making it to 18:00, or close. Finally there was no fight left to me. There was nothing I could do to stay awake, and clumsiness from it was making trying just a bit dangerous. Medicines were taken, which usually compound that, then off to bed. But I woke at 20:30. I was able to get back to sleep but woke at 22:00. I was not able to get back to sleep that time, or not yet. So very tired though. I will be going back to bed pretty soon. I don't know what the problem is. What is worse than being very tired is being as such and not being able to sleep.
Later, or hopefully good night. Again.
While looking around and before falling again, I saw this.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
A very clean kitchen.
.
.
I did what I could before visitors arrived to help. Little as it was, and probably unnoticeable, although hopefully it did make a difference, it was all I could do. The kitchen has been truly cleaned. It is now, again, a place to prepare meals and a central location from which to begin cleaning as I unpack. My home is still quite rough. Boxes of stuff to unpack from the trip, laundry, and deeper cleaning is needed. I may mop out there, with that being available. Most of my dishes were washed, though some showed up during the process, a fork here, a pan I hadn't gotten to, and such. All of it got cleaned, save the cast iron skillet which I will do separately. Women use soap. Some of them understood, they have male family members who are like me, regarding cast iron.
It was good to have a bit of company as well. It would have been better to have them under simpler circumstances, for a visit rather than as help, but beggars can't be choosers at times.
I wore myself out with what I did in prep and the little I helped while they were here. Old, ill, just not quite able to be rolled into the dirt I guess. Just having folks by wears me out, there is that. Like an old pet, who even being given attention can almost be a bit much, I wear quickly. I do not know if I will go dark this time. I suspect I will. I am fighting it. I am slowly losing ground. As a fact, I may end up in bed shortly. I am trying to push the day as long as I can but it is coming to a close quickly, harshly. Tired. I will probably, in days, become as close to death as men get without actually being in danger of slipping over that edge. So very tired.
I have some things planned. An incoming visit before long, an appointment at the end of the month, several articles to write, a game I wish to finish to my satisfaction, even keeping to days. I am hoping the weakness today is a minor thing, caused by my exertion. So very tired. A bit sore from messing with the dishes, washing, rinsing, bent over the tub as I was. And the various other things I did. Medicine. I will take that. All of this is only worth it just for that one thing, to take medicine and hopefully get better, maybe, someday. But not today. Today is a price.
Later. No, good night.
.
I did what I could before visitors arrived to help. Little as it was, and probably unnoticeable, although hopefully it did make a difference, it was all I could do. The kitchen has been truly cleaned. It is now, again, a place to prepare meals and a central location from which to begin cleaning as I unpack. My home is still quite rough. Boxes of stuff to unpack from the trip, laundry, and deeper cleaning is needed. I may mop out there, with that being available. Most of my dishes were washed, though some showed up during the process, a fork here, a pan I hadn't gotten to, and such. All of it got cleaned, save the cast iron skillet which I will do separately. Women use soap. Some of them understood, they have male family members who are like me, regarding cast iron.
It was good to have a bit of company as well. It would have been better to have them under simpler circumstances, for a visit rather than as help, but beggars can't be choosers at times.
I wore myself out with what I did in prep and the little I helped while they were here. Old, ill, just not quite able to be rolled into the dirt I guess. Just having folks by wears me out, there is that. Like an old pet, who even being given attention can almost be a bit much, I wear quickly. I do not know if I will go dark this time. I suspect I will. I am fighting it. I am slowly losing ground. As a fact, I may end up in bed shortly. I am trying to push the day as long as I can but it is coming to a close quickly, harshly. Tired. I will probably, in days, become as close to death as men get without actually being in danger of slipping over that edge. So very tired.
I have some things planned. An incoming visit before long, an appointment at the end of the month, several articles to write, a game I wish to finish to my satisfaction, even keeping to days. I am hoping the weakness today is a minor thing, caused by my exertion. So very tired. A bit sore from messing with the dishes, washing, rinsing, bent over the tub as I was. And the various other things I did. Medicine. I will take that. All of this is only worth it just for that one thing, to take medicine and hopefully get better, maybe, someday. But not today. Today is a price.
Later. No, good night.
Stream of consciousness?
.
.
I have been accused of such. Accused? Well, until one has some handle on a new concept, it must be bad. At least, in a pessimistic manner, until things are sorted. No, pessimism isn't my only stand or method, just a safe place to start, as often as I need and when I so desire, or the mood strikes me. Believe as you wish, I will do as I like. Still, the idea befuddled me. Yes. I understand the words. First I had to see if the words were to be literally interpreted as a term or if there was a specific nomenclature, specifically in this case or given to them within the realm of the literary.
I can't say that I completely get the notion. Only a few of the authors credited with this style are, or have been, read. All of them were read long ago. The Telltale Heart, by E.A. Poe wherein the style is foreshadowed, Ulysses by J. Joyce I believe, various (or all) short stories by A. Chekhov, and The Sound and Fury by W. Faulkner. Urhm, if memory serves. Those were read somewhere between my preteens and early teens, however. So memory simply doesn't serve to answer. And, while the term seems to stand in a literal manner within the literary world, it is also rather vague. Imagine explaining the eating of peanutbutter by a dog without indicating physical action, dog, or peanutbutter. Well, that is how it seems to me.
By the way... I was surprised to see Poe, again, as a precursor in the literary field. He was also the first author to develop murder mysteries. As well, a poet of no small fame and regard. He was a college drop-out. Urhm... go figure. Some say it was Poe that put America on the world literary stage, something all of his peers combined failed to do. I'm not sure if that is a good thing, if you have any notion of the literary world as a social group. But as an art-form, perhaps... Yes... I will acknowledge, that if such is true, it would be a great thing. Poe is more than horror, if a... troubled man. Hmm, aren't we all? *le sighe* I had actually, by eight, read most of his material. Though I continued to be fascinated by it until the start of my teen years. Becoming tiresome, I moved on, but have returned from time to time.
In any case, I think I am growing on the notion. I think I like the sound of it. However, I can take no credit for it. While some, perhaps, aim at such a writing technique I simply write. And that is simply how I write. Even that isn't actually the truth. I write what, and how, I think. I do not do it as a literary form, I do it because I don't have the energy to organize or target some actual, or other, belletristic from. Which... makes the whole thing confusing to me, in a way. Doesn't everybody think almost exactly this way? So... what is exceptional about writing in a way that is so familiar to so many in such a bland and intimate way? Is it merely the act of putting something so dry and dull to media? Is it that very safe familiarity? Not that my writing is in the class of those above, mind you, just... thinking out loud. As usual, it seems. Bleh.
Oh, just... having a morning chuckle, at my expense. A dog with peanutbutter, only I am the dog. Again. *woof*
Later.
.
I can't say that I completely get the notion. Only a few of the authors credited with this style are, or have been, read. All of them were read long ago. The Telltale Heart, by E.A. Poe wherein the style is foreshadowed, Ulysses by J. Joyce I believe, various (or all) short stories by A. Chekhov, and The Sound and Fury by W. Faulkner. Urhm, if memory serves. Those were read somewhere between my preteens and early teens, however. So memory simply doesn't serve to answer. And, while the term seems to stand in a literal manner within the literary world, it is also rather vague. Imagine explaining the eating of peanutbutter by a dog without indicating physical action, dog, or peanutbutter. Well, that is how it seems to me.
By the way... I was surprised to see Poe, again, as a precursor in the literary field. He was also the first author to develop murder mysteries. As well, a poet of no small fame and regard. He was a college drop-out. Urhm... go figure. Some say it was Poe that put America on the world literary stage, something all of his peers combined failed to do. I'm not sure if that is a good thing, if you have any notion of the literary world as a social group. But as an art-form, perhaps... Yes... I will acknowledge, that if such is true, it would be a great thing. Poe is more than horror, if a... troubled man. Hmm, aren't we all? *le sighe* I had actually, by eight, read most of his material. Though I continued to be fascinated by it until the start of my teen years. Becoming tiresome, I moved on, but have returned from time to time.
Oh, just... having a morning chuckle, at my expense. A dog with peanutbutter, only I am the dog. Again. *woof*
Later.
Organic natural sugar? Genetically modified food?
.
.
While this fellow doesn't speak to these topics, specifically, in this video, his book very well might. It should, though so much of what we are told is bogus, from medical doctors, by "science", in politics, at school. Lies, mostly. Untrue from start to stop. This fellow, in a few minutes of a rather entertaining presentation, covers a few of the many topics. You CAN believe what you wish. But what you believe is not correct, true, right, because you believe it. The speaker was challenged. And rather than accepting what he was told, took the challenge. It may well cost him a great deal, possibly his life. As a general rule, the truth is not accepted by most churches, most people, or most governments, and that is in the industrial nations. It never existed, or came close, anywhere else. Oh, just give this a toot in your pipe.
A journalist? Really? I wonder how he got through.
.
While this fellow doesn't speak to these topics, specifically, in this video, his book very well might. It should, though so much of what we are told is bogus, from medical doctors, by "science", in politics, at school. Lies, mostly. Untrue from start to stop. This fellow, in a few minutes of a rather entertaining presentation, covers a few of the many topics. You CAN believe what you wish. But what you believe is not correct, true, right, because you believe it. The speaker was challenged. And rather than accepting what he was told, took the challenge. It may well cost him a great deal, possibly his life. As a general rule, the truth is not accepted by most churches, most people, or most governments, and that is in the industrial nations. It never existed, or came close, anywhere else. Oh, just give this a toot in your pipe.
A journalist? Really? I wonder how he got through.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Just a bit more work.
.
.
There is always more to do. What I have done isn't much but it is something. I pretty much ran out of steam. Still, doing what I did opened the way for a dinner. I had to wash the cast iron skillet, which ended up being much less trouble than it at first appeared. Dry, not gunky. Yeah, yeah, but that's the way of it. Just some hamburger, beans, and a can of tomatoes, along with spices and herbs. Not a great dinner but it was hot and filling.
I am hoping to get to be early enough to wake, shower, and finish the bathroom. I simply couldn't do more, hitting my limit. The bathroom is still in very good shape, at least. I just need to touch it up a bit and hit the key parts. I can do that right before diving in for a shower.
No, it isn't much. But it beats what I have been doing otherwise and lately by a landslide. It also trumps, by even more, that slide into oblivion that is still on my radar screen big and threatening. I am hoping, with the help tomorrow, to be ready for if or when it comes. I'm almost certain it will. It's like being just a bit sick, knowing your body, and that the flu has arrived. You just hope you can be prepped for when it all falls out from under you. We will see what we will see. A prepped kitchen makes life much easier. Even a little help, and maybe more on my own in the next few days.
I can't say much else. Numb. Working through it, a bit, but no more. Good night.
.
There is always more to do. What I have done isn't much but it is something. I pretty much ran out of steam. Still, doing what I did opened the way for a dinner. I had to wash the cast iron skillet, which ended up being much less trouble than it at first appeared. Dry, not gunky. Yeah, yeah, but that's the way of it. Just some hamburger, beans, and a can of tomatoes, along with spices and herbs. Not a great dinner but it was hot and filling.
I am hoping to get to be early enough to wake, shower, and finish the bathroom. I simply couldn't do more, hitting my limit. The bathroom is still in very good shape, at least. I just need to touch it up a bit and hit the key parts. I can do that right before diving in for a shower.
No, it isn't much. But it beats what I have been doing otherwise and lately by a landslide. It also trumps, by even more, that slide into oblivion that is still on my radar screen big and threatening. I am hoping, with the help tomorrow, to be ready for if or when it comes. I'm almost certain it will. It's like being just a bit sick, knowing your body, and that the flu has arrived. You just hope you can be prepped for when it all falls out from under you. We will see what we will see. A prepped kitchen makes life much easier. Even a little help, and maybe more on my own in the next few days.
I can't say much else. Numb. Working through it, a bit, but no more. Good night.
I am doing some things.
.
.
Okay, trash was collected and removed, dishes collected and set to soak, cat litter was removed and pans washed and set to dry. There was no used hitting the bathroom as that is my de facto kitchen, since my actual kitchen faucet, again, sucks spiked pineapple as to putting out enough water to be useful. Again again. Gah! After the dishes have soaked a bit I will get in there and do those up, taking the laundry in there to the washing area. Further, I opened the windows and front door to allow some fresh air to flow. That won't help with the fresh musk stench of a rutting bull from my room, but I will keep that door closed, and it is not heated so that will keep that odor at bay, a bit. No, I haven't been being... uhrm... rude. Just the sweat from dreaming... the chemicals that I produce. Potent, boy. That just has to air out, it infuses the walls and everything. I'm not sure which is worse, this or the combat scent. Hmm, actually I like the gunpowdery smell of combat. But women seem to like this better. Hopefully, though, they won't notice. *closing door*
If I do well, in a few hours, and take a short break again, I might just make it to town yet tonight. Just for bulbs and a meal, well and to escape the dungeon. Hmm, I might put some laundry in right after this post. A clean smelling home lends to clean smelling clothes which makes leaving just a little more secure. Lots to wash, just about all I own and this is no small bit. Between not throwing things away and buying new from time to time as well I have some decent selection of, if often well worn, clothing. There... is a reason for that though. For times like these.
I have looked around for locking fuel doors for the Xterra, after calling a dozen places to no good effect. Unless you did some serious work, such a thing will be little better than a locking gas cap, in truth. My locking gas cap, by the way, was broken immediately. Still worked, as a gas cap, but I couldn't lock it. Busted. With a locking fuel door you would know someone had broken in. Unless they simply picked the lock well? There is no way 12 trips x 50 miles/trip = 600 miles should be costing 350-400 dollars. At 20miles per gallon it would only cost $120. And most of my drive, save for the last 1/4 mile, are highway miles. Even dropping it to 15mpg it comes to $160 in gas, and that at $4 per gallon. I am being almost drained when I go to town. Then again it might not even be through the cap. I ought to look at the gas hose, see if they simply put in a drain spout or something. Then again, for all I know, some of it is being taken right from my garage. I just don't know.
Later.
.
Okay, trash was collected and removed, dishes collected and set to soak, cat litter was removed and pans washed and set to dry. There was no used hitting the bathroom as that is my de facto kitchen, since my actual kitchen faucet, again, sucks spiked pineapple as to putting out enough water to be useful. Again again. Gah! After the dishes have soaked a bit I will get in there and do those up, taking the laundry in there to the washing area. Further, I opened the windows and front door to allow some fresh air to flow. That won't help with the fresh musk stench of a rutting bull from my room, but I will keep that door closed, and it is not heated so that will keep that odor at bay, a bit. No, I haven't been being... uhrm... rude. Just the sweat from dreaming... the chemicals that I produce. Potent, boy. That just has to air out, it infuses the walls and everything. I'm not sure which is worse, this or the combat scent. Hmm, actually I like the gunpowdery smell of combat. But women seem to like this better. Hopefully, though, they won't notice. *closing door*
If I do well, in a few hours, and take a short break again, I might just make it to town yet tonight. Just for bulbs and a meal, well and to escape the dungeon. Hmm, I might put some laundry in right after this post. A clean smelling home lends to clean smelling clothes which makes leaving just a little more secure. Lots to wash, just about all I own and this is no small bit. Between not throwing things away and buying new from time to time as well I have some decent selection of, if often well worn, clothing. There... is a reason for that though. For times like these.
I have looked around for locking fuel doors for the Xterra, after calling a dozen places to no good effect. Unless you did some serious work, such a thing will be little better than a locking gas cap, in truth. My locking gas cap, by the way, was broken immediately. Still worked, as a gas cap, but I couldn't lock it. Busted. With a locking fuel door you would know someone had broken in. Unless they simply picked the lock well? There is no way 12 trips x 50 miles/trip = 600 miles should be costing 350-400 dollars. At 20miles per gallon it would only cost $120. And most of my drive, save for the last 1/4 mile, are highway miles. Even dropping it to 15mpg it comes to $160 in gas, and that at $4 per gallon. I am being almost drained when I go to town. Then again it might not even be through the cap. I ought to look at the gas hose, see if they simply put in a drain spout or something. Then again, for all I know, some of it is being taken right from my garage. I just don't know.
Later.
I'm going to try.
.
.
I probably won't make it to town today, not during the day. I was, at least, awake in time. I simply could not get going. Further, I want to do some small things to clean my home just a bit before help arrives. The bathroom, trash out, kitty litter boxes, and maybe open the doors and windows to allow for fresh air. Yes, yes, a bit of work. I know I can get to some of it, maybe all of it, just not that and a trip to town. Or, not when I had hoped to go. If I am doing okay after I finish, I may yet end up in town but later. I really want to get a few bulbs and a few other things in town, and a hot meal.
While dreams have backed off a bit, I still see women almost every night. Intensity seems to have let up. I still don't quite get that. Usually this happens when coming out of the medicinal coma, not potentially going into it. Unless I still had enough of the medicinal effect that starting medicines was more like the end stages of that startup cycle. I simply don't know. And I have been able to keep the darkness at bay. I haven't been able to be all that functional, but I have been able to get to, then maintain days, and to be more aware. Yeah, something odd in there. Or... Perhaps my heart has improved enough that the effects of medicine are different, that I can handle the load a bit better? Terrifyingly hopeful, that last. A few more stages and I might even begin to know one ounce of what you know of as a human life.
I have said that even at my age, and in the shape I am in, if I could get back to health as most of you know it, I would run the game. I am not typical. Even mostly dead I am Olympian, and more, much more, for my health level class. If I can learn to walk at will, I will be sprinting soon after. I may figure out how to guarantee my gasoline isn't stolen in town, a mechanical fix so that my tank cover can't simply be opened. A locking gas cap was absolutely useless. I was spending $300-400 on gas, and that is impossible for me to maintain, and it wasn't from driving. College towns do have their serious downsides. Hmm, might actually call around about that before I begin cleaning. Yes, a body shop might be able to install a hidden lock mechanism.
Later.
.
I probably won't make it to town today, not during the day. I was, at least, awake in time. I simply could not get going. Further, I want to do some small things to clean my home just a bit before help arrives. The bathroom, trash out, kitty litter boxes, and maybe open the doors and windows to allow for fresh air. Yes, yes, a bit of work. I know I can get to some of it, maybe all of it, just not that and a trip to town. Or, not when I had hoped to go. If I am doing okay after I finish, I may yet end up in town but later. I really want to get a few bulbs and a few other things in town, and a hot meal.
While dreams have backed off a bit, I still see women almost every night. Intensity seems to have let up. I still don't quite get that. Usually this happens when coming out of the medicinal coma, not potentially going into it. Unless I still had enough of the medicinal effect that starting medicines was more like the end stages of that startup cycle. I simply don't know. And I have been able to keep the darkness at bay. I haven't been able to be all that functional, but I have been able to get to, then maintain days, and to be more aware. Yeah, something odd in there. Or... Perhaps my heart has improved enough that the effects of medicine are different, that I can handle the load a bit better? Terrifyingly hopeful, that last. A few more stages and I might even begin to know one ounce of what you know of as a human life.
I have said that even at my age, and in the shape I am in, if I could get back to health as most of you know it, I would run the game. I am not typical. Even mostly dead I am Olympian, and more, much more, for my health level class. If I can learn to walk at will, I will be sprinting soon after. I may figure out how to guarantee my gasoline isn't stolen in town, a mechanical fix so that my tank cover can't simply be opened. A locking gas cap was absolutely useless. I was spending $300-400 on gas, and that is impossible for me to maintain, and it wasn't from driving. College towns do have their serious downsides. Hmm, might actually call around about that before I begin cleaning. Yes, a body shop might be able to install a hidden lock mechanism.
Later.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Dithering betwixt here and not.
.
.
I have retained my mental faculties, but my flesh remains uncarriageable. I cannot make it function. Tomorrow, I hope to do a bit of work and take a little trip. It is a goal, not a promise, and certainly not a surety. Hmm, and I ought to check my blood sugar. Yes, I keep forgetting to do that. One morning then the task has slipped my mind. I will do it when I take meds tonight. Bleh. I hate having to try to remember things in this sort of condition. I just want to sleep, mostly. Everything is an effort. But I am trying.
I do have to work at staying awake. Gaming helps, blog writing and reading, and sometimes simply thinking. I have an article or three to write, more haiku to ponder, and things to do. I will keep trying to just keep this side of the void, escaping further into life when able, and enjoying the little pleasure of this painless condition. Bedtime, I think. If I want to be up early enough to go to town in the day.
Be well. Good night.
.
I have retained my mental faculties, but my flesh remains uncarriageable. I cannot make it function. Tomorrow, I hope to do a bit of work and take a little trip. It is a goal, not a promise, and certainly not a surety. Hmm, and I ought to check my blood sugar. Yes, I keep forgetting to do that. One morning then the task has slipped my mind. I will do it when I take meds tonight. Bleh. I hate having to try to remember things in this sort of condition. I just want to sleep, mostly. Everything is an effort. But I am trying.
I do have to work at staying awake. Gaming helps, blog writing and reading, and sometimes simply thinking. I have an article or three to write, more haiku to ponder, and things to do. I will keep trying to just keep this side of the void, escaping further into life when able, and enjoying the little pleasure of this painless condition. Bedtime, I think. If I want to be up early enough to go to town in the day.
Be well. Good night.
Limbo.
.
.
Nothing sexy or witty today. Nor for the past weeks. Worse has been know... or unknown but lost. No better has been held, save in dreams. On the edge of greater darkness I linger, looking for a handhold so as to prevent a slide into the abyss. I cannot be sure if something has been found or if the mere effort is keeping me close enough to the edge to at least see some light. Never before have I been this close and yet been able to try. I cannot tell you of that darkness, only hope you never come to know it. Painkillers, native or manufactured, cannot help you there, as little of it as you will feel it is worse than most could bear. So, even numb and rough I cling to the brink with everything I can muster.
.
Nothing sexy or witty today. Nor for the past weeks. Worse has been know... or unknown but lost. No better has been held, save in dreams. On the edge of greater darkness I linger, looking for a handhold so as to prevent a slide into the abyss. I cannot be sure if something has been found or if the mere effort is keeping me close enough to the edge to at least see some light. Never before have I been this close and yet been able to try. I cannot tell you of that darkness, only hope you never come to know it. Painkillers, native or manufactured, cannot help you there, as little of it as you will feel it is worse than most could bear. So, even numb and rough I cling to the brink with everything I can muster.
Snuck out, I did, I did.
.
.
It may not seem like much to do. But to me, it was the sun, moon, and stars rolled into a trip. A meal was eaten, a bit of shopping was done, a return trip. I enjoyed a sensation as if I had gotten away with the crown jewels and a quick little kiss squealingly, gleefully, stolen from one of the fairer, oh so ready, princesses. Well, maybe not that good. Work with me. Odd thing happened. Where I was eating dinner, I heard three songs played, songs that I have played here, songs you will never hear on the radio, certainly not together. I was so shocked, when I realized, that I didn't get which ones. Mazzy Star, a hard rock/heavy metal male group, and maybe Nightwish? I was absolutely stunned. Then the music went back to the worst of the modern dance musac.
Now, while you might hear Mazzy Star, and very rarely but possibly Nightwish, or even a heavy metal song, to hear them together, out here in rural-land, at any point in time, is a coincidence that cannot be. What happened I cannot say. I will say that it was not some accident of fate. Oh, I enjoyed it, I just don't believe it. I was so shocked, when I realized I was listening to my music, I couldn't remember the groups, save Mazzy Star's song. I know I played the heavier guy band one recently, but... I simply was so shocked I couldn't pull it up. Is my blog being used for a playlist on some radio station? Could someone at a small restaurant in the middle of the night know me and have my music on a device? Crazy, baby. Yeah, I know, I am paranoid. But this happened. And it IS crazy. Beautifully crazy, but... I'll take any little such gift, accident or directed gift matters not. A gift of fate or forethought is yet a gift, and this a sweet one.
I couldn't cool the rig down quickly upon returning. And I almost left the Xt'er lit and sitting in the drive. I went out to collect a food dish for Sam, however, realizing they hadn't received their last meal for the day. Doing that saved me a bit of a tank of gas, or worse. Being that I don't go out often, she might have bled herself dry of gas. Ugh! Yeah, well, when everything is a strain and forgetfulness is the way, life can become very complicated very quickly. I just got lucky.
Oh, last night, I met the new missionaries. They are... well... girls! Urhm, young women I should say, no longer children these. I have met many missionaries. I have heard that they have women type missionaries. I just was beginning to think there must be something akin between dwarf women and Mormon missionary women. Oh, I have seen many quite attractive LDS women, don't think otherwise, but nary a missionary. In any case, since there is no lady in residence, for propriety's sake, they must have a local woman in attendance when they visit. Fair enough. Should I send my daughters out I should like just such safeguards. Doesn't matter that these younglings are daughterlings to me. In any case, they offered to help.
So, before too long, I may get some help cleaning the home, the kitchen would be of primal interest. I let them know that I can help, I just have to be... helped to help, urhm, told what to do. I have some goals between now and then, though. I want to clean the bathroom one more time. A clean bathroom isn't just a gift to women, but a need. Well, and get some things cleaned and cleared to get rid of some malodorous afflictions around and about. See, they are already helping... if I can... figure out how to get to those things. Gah! I feel such a fool. I am curious to see what difference young ladies will bring to the conversation of their work. As I have said, discussing God is always a good thing, especially, at times, with those who have a slightly different take. Oh, and nary a beard, not even a likeness of form or voice!
Oh, well, and I haven't continued to fall. Normally, at the pace I was going into that dark, I would be hitting psychic blindness by this point. That I got out, that I am contemplating a cleaning work order or three, the music, then women missionaries? Just a delightful set of... instances... have me quite... curious about the world, ways of things, and how things work all over again. As a child who is introduced and enjoys the first strains of a new love of music, perhaps Vivaldi's Four Seasons, or Greensleeves done by a traditional group, or the first hearing of some of the truly wonderful music of the faith.
So much shock in such a short order. I tell you, the planet is shifting or something. But I will take it and just enjoy the little gifts. Satan may have abandoned me, and good riddance, in my personal hell, but Father hasn't. He walks even here. Later.
.
It may not seem like much to do. But to me, it was the sun, moon, and stars rolled into a trip. A meal was eaten, a bit of shopping was done, a return trip. I enjoyed a sensation as if I had gotten away with the crown jewels and a quick little kiss squealingly, gleefully, stolen from one of the fairer, oh so ready, princesses. Well, maybe not that good. Work with me. Odd thing happened. Where I was eating dinner, I heard three songs played, songs that I have played here, songs you will never hear on the radio, certainly not together. I was so shocked, when I realized, that I didn't get which ones. Mazzy Star, a hard rock/heavy metal male group, and maybe Nightwish? I was absolutely stunned. Then the music went back to the worst of the modern dance musac.
Now, while you might hear Mazzy Star, and very rarely but possibly Nightwish, or even a heavy metal song, to hear them together, out here in rural-land, at any point in time, is a coincidence that cannot be. What happened I cannot say. I will say that it was not some accident of fate. Oh, I enjoyed it, I just don't believe it. I was so shocked, when I realized I was listening to my music, I couldn't remember the groups, save Mazzy Star's song. I know I played the heavier guy band one recently, but... I simply was so shocked I couldn't pull it up. Is my blog being used for a playlist on some radio station? Could someone at a small restaurant in the middle of the night know me and have my music on a device? Crazy, baby. Yeah, I know, I am paranoid. But this happened. And it IS crazy. Beautifully crazy, but... I'll take any little such gift, accident or directed gift matters not. A gift of fate or forethought is yet a gift, and this a sweet one.
I couldn't cool the rig down quickly upon returning. And I almost left the Xt'er lit and sitting in the drive. I went out to collect a food dish for Sam, however, realizing they hadn't received their last meal for the day. Doing that saved me a bit of a tank of gas, or worse. Being that I don't go out often, she might have bled herself dry of gas. Ugh! Yeah, well, when everything is a strain and forgetfulness is the way, life can become very complicated very quickly. I just got lucky.
Oh, last night, I met the new missionaries. They are... well... girls! Urhm, young women I should say, no longer children these. I have met many missionaries. I have heard that they have women type missionaries. I just was beginning to think there must be something akin between dwarf women and Mormon missionary women. Oh, I have seen many quite attractive LDS women, don't think otherwise, but nary a missionary. In any case, since there is no lady in residence, for propriety's sake, they must have a local woman in attendance when they visit. Fair enough. Should I send my daughters out I should like just such safeguards. Doesn't matter that these younglings are daughterlings to me. In any case, they offered to help.
So, before too long, I may get some help cleaning the home, the kitchen would be of primal interest. I let them know that I can help, I just have to be... helped to help, urhm, told what to do. I have some goals between now and then, though. I want to clean the bathroom one more time. A clean bathroom isn't just a gift to women, but a need. Well, and get some things cleaned and cleared to get rid of some malodorous afflictions around and about. See, they are already helping... if I can... figure out how to get to those things. Gah! I feel such a fool. I am curious to see what difference young ladies will bring to the conversation of their work. As I have said, discussing God is always a good thing, especially, at times, with those who have a slightly different take. Oh, and nary a beard, not even a likeness of form or voice!
Oh, well, and I haven't continued to fall. Normally, at the pace I was going into that dark, I would be hitting psychic blindness by this point. That I got out, that I am contemplating a cleaning work order or three, the music, then women missionaries? Just a delightful set of... instances... have me quite... curious about the world, ways of things, and how things work all over again. As a child who is introduced and enjoys the first strains of a new love of music, perhaps Vivaldi's Four Seasons, or Greensleeves done by a traditional group, or the first hearing of some of the truly wonderful music of the faith.
So much shock in such a short order. I tell you, the planet is shifting or something. But I will take it and just enjoy the little gifts. Satan may have abandoned me, and good riddance, in my personal hell, but Father hasn't. He walks even here. Later.
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Sneaking out.
.
.
I'm not exactly sure what is blocking me from getting out. When I become ill I feel as if I am locked away by something that won't let me out. It's not like a guard, more like a parent to a child or a nurse to a patient. I can't explain it fully. Only, that when I have enough energy saved up, I attempt an escape. If I get caught, you ask? Well, it is more that I don't make it out. I run out of energy and my plan fails, that's all. It's like the nanny has a zapper or something. Having said that, the goal is to sneak out tonight.
I won't be doing anything fancy. Perhaps a meal, maybe a little shopping, but just getting out would be quite nice. Last night, when I had my smoke, I took it outside. It was... quite nice. Fresh air? Really? When did they invent that. The cool of the night, the dark, a breeze... I miss that. So many of you "face" that, nearly every day. When it isn't mild enough for you to ignore, you curse it for one extreme or another. I tell you, you know not what you have. I can't remember the last time I was out before this. It's been a while. I have been meaning to get out. Several events and invitations, looking over the garden, pulling the hoses and such in for the winter. I did make an appointment... a while ago. Just happenstance. I suppose I have about a one in ten chance, on any given event, whether I make it or not. Perhaps less. Yes, a night out. I might not make it but... we will see.
I keep looking around my place, the mess. I consider doing little things but as I begin I forget what I was doing and get lost back into myself. Even thinking is difficult, though today that seems quite back in order.
.
I'm not exactly sure what is blocking me from getting out. When I become ill I feel as if I am locked away by something that won't let me out. It's not like a guard, more like a parent to a child or a nurse to a patient. I can't explain it fully. Only, that when I have enough energy saved up, I attempt an escape. If I get caught, you ask? Well, it is more that I don't make it out. I run out of energy and my plan fails, that's all. It's like the nanny has a zapper or something. Having said that, the goal is to sneak out tonight.
I won't be doing anything fancy. Perhaps a meal, maybe a little shopping, but just getting out would be quite nice. Last night, when I had my smoke, I took it outside. It was... quite nice. Fresh air? Really? When did they invent that. The cool of the night, the dark, a breeze... I miss that. So many of you "face" that, nearly every day. When it isn't mild enough for you to ignore, you curse it for one extreme or another. I tell you, you know not what you have. I can't remember the last time I was out before this. It's been a while. I have been meaning to get out. Several events and invitations, looking over the garden, pulling the hoses and such in for the winter. I did make an appointment... a while ago. Just happenstance. I suppose I have about a one in ten chance, on any given event, whether I make it or not. Perhaps less. Yes, a night out. I might not make it but... we will see.
I keep looking around my place, the mess. I consider doing little things but as I begin I forget what I was doing and get lost back into myself. Even thinking is difficult, though today that seems quite back in order.
Wednesday, is it?
.
.
I am doing very well, inside, today. The rest of the world has no connection here, however. It hasn't since shortly after returning home. Usually I haven't been this good, even inside of me. Today is a pleasure, a short reprieve as I head into the healing cocoon. Though, I am trying something else, this time. Calling on the beast, the animal, inside. I refer to him simply as the Beast. Not as in the devil, mind you. He is purely physical. Food, fuck, fight, run, it is what he does and like few others you will ever have known. He doesn't die well, he doesn't care about propriety, civility, or even duty in the end. Purely animal. He might be able to help me stay awake and I may be able to help him become human, or... as human as I am. Perhaps even moral. Though I do think animals, in some ways, know morality as human like beings have forgotten. It was known, once, as they walked in the Garden. Lost, but neither forgotten nor ended. It will be were they will live again. Perhaps even some who wouldn't have been thought to ever enter there, such as myself, will be there as well. Truly the lion lying with the lamb. Not a goat, not I.
I think some part of me knew it was Wednesday. I have looked at the calendar several times today. I missed an event I wanted to attend yesterday, and had put the notion into my mind several days before, including the day. But what I do for one process does not effect or contribute to the rest of my existence. Much as you might be able to automatically do some math process, or mechanical trick, to do some specific thing or task you do, but not being able to simply, easily, or automatically do that same thing outside of a specific context. My mind is fractured, more so when I am in the 'zombie zone'. No bother, just and understanding. Wednesday, is it? Yes. And I will have forgotten that by tomorrow, which will be Thursday so today will no longer be relevant, or correct. I will probably forget by later this afternoon. Hmm?
It is good to have a day back, as weak as it might seem to you. My thinking, in my head, is clear and concise. I can manipulate complex thoughts, work in memory, develop scenarios, contemplate the future. Something that has not be available, mostly, lately. A touch of vodka, a little sugar as well, just a touch of what they say brings death? Who knows. That on top of medicine. Or a medicine of it's own sort. I will take it, but not pursue further. Just an occasional dose or it gets far too much to handle, medicine become poison, or at least an addiction. Never the who, just... rambling as I dance through the nether on my way to a temporary oblivion.
Take those little breaks when you can get them! I have learned to enjoy the little things, just as much... no more... than the big things.
.
I am doing very well, inside, today. The rest of the world has no connection here, however. It hasn't since shortly after returning home. Usually I haven't been this good, even inside of me. Today is a pleasure, a short reprieve as I head into the healing cocoon. Though, I am trying something else, this time. Calling on the beast, the animal, inside. I refer to him simply as the Beast. Not as in the devil, mind you. He is purely physical. Food, fuck, fight, run, it is what he does and like few others you will ever have known. He doesn't die well, he doesn't care about propriety, civility, or even duty in the end. Purely animal. He might be able to help me stay awake and I may be able to help him become human, or... as human as I am. Perhaps even moral. Though I do think animals, in some ways, know morality as human like beings have forgotten. It was known, once, as they walked in the Garden. Lost, but neither forgotten nor ended. It will be were they will live again. Perhaps even some who wouldn't have been thought to ever enter there, such as myself, will be there as well. Truly the lion lying with the lamb. Not a goat, not I.
I think some part of me knew it was Wednesday. I have looked at the calendar several times today. I missed an event I wanted to attend yesterday, and had put the notion into my mind several days before, including the day. But what I do for one process does not effect or contribute to the rest of my existence. Much as you might be able to automatically do some math process, or mechanical trick, to do some specific thing or task you do, but not being able to simply, easily, or automatically do that same thing outside of a specific context. My mind is fractured, more so when I am in the 'zombie zone'. No bother, just and understanding. Wednesday, is it? Yes. And I will have forgotten that by tomorrow, which will be Thursday so today will no longer be relevant, or correct. I will probably forget by later this afternoon. Hmm?
It is good to have a day back, as weak as it might seem to you. My thinking, in my head, is clear and concise. I can manipulate complex thoughts, work in memory, develop scenarios, contemplate the future. Something that has not be available, mostly, lately. A touch of vodka, a little sugar as well, just a touch of what they say brings death? Who knows. That on top of medicine. Or a medicine of it's own sort. I will take it, but not pursue further. Just an occasional dose or it gets far too much to handle, medicine become poison, or at least an addiction. Never the who, just... rambling as I dance through the nether on my way to a temporary oblivion.
Take those little breaks when you can get them! I have learned to enjoy the little things, just as much... no more... than the big things.
A bit of a toast last eve.
.
.
To be honest, my dreams of late have unnerved me, just a bit. While I am no more, or less, tired from them, just that much feminine proximity? access? something, breaks down my gui (gooey). It must alter my brain waves, changes my body's chemical productions, and messes with my various mental aspects. I can only imagine that an extended honeymoon might do such a thing. Even when I keep it purely dream, when I can, and I do try to resist. A woman wouldn't kill me, now, as doctors have tried to indicate. But she would eat a lot of my masculinity and bravado, for as long as she could handle it. After that initial collision of her moon and my earth, there would eventually be a cycle created, hopefully, keeping us both in a better, truer, rotation around the sun that is God. Yes, I see it clearly now.
In any case, with a twitch regarding sleep, I thought a bit of a drink would be good. A little vodka, a regular coke, a little stir. Oh, that went down like, well, it was very very good. One, my alter ego asked? Well, it would be wise, suggested I. Yes, but wisdom is for sissies, says a.e. True, but there is nothing wrong with walking a bit more of the feminine if it is right, says I. Urhm. I lost. Or won. Depending on how you see things. Two more stout sips, and a cigarette to add an extra touch to the biological profanity at hand.
Sleep was not had until almost 2:00. I can't swear I dreamed of women, though I do believe so. I can't remember the dreams, only the physical affects upon waking, which I did several times in the night. Too much fluid would have waken me to relieve anyway. Yes, all symptoms of arousal my physique exhibits were there each time I awoke, right to the final wake at noon. Potent, I tell you. And, no, I have no guilt about dreams, not these, only about that which they can, seemingly unstoppably at times, lead. I fight a good fight but some wars, battles anyway, cannot be won. I do well, given the givens.
Actually I felt quite good this morning. But then I remembered... I would have to check my blood sugar. Ugh! The kit was found, the system set up, and blood drawn, the tester brought to the matter. At 122, that is the lowest blood sugar reading I have had in the morning since I started testing this last week. Usually it is mid 150's up to 173. Further, that ties the lowest reading I have seen. Hmm... Yeah... Whatever. But I will take it! Don't ask me, just understand, my corpse is not like that of others. I tell you this and nothing more. Nevermore will I understand.
.
To be honest, my dreams of late have unnerved me, just a bit. While I am no more, or less, tired from them, just that much feminine proximity? access? something, breaks down my gui (gooey). It must alter my brain waves, changes my body's chemical productions, and messes with my various mental aspects. I can only imagine that an extended honeymoon might do such a thing. Even when I keep it purely dream, when I can, and I do try to resist. A woman wouldn't kill me, now, as doctors have tried to indicate. But she would eat a lot of my masculinity and bravado, for as long as she could handle it. After that initial collision of her moon and my earth, there would eventually be a cycle created, hopefully, keeping us both in a better, truer, rotation around the sun that is God. Yes, I see it clearly now.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Bedtime?
.
.
It's felt like bedtime all day. Usually I have been staying up to midnight, sometimes later lately. That isn't going to happen tonight unless I simply fail to make it to bed. As with food, I can forget to... sleep? Yeah. I know I want it. But it means moving. I'll be giving myself a shot of the stuff, along with the rest of medicine for the first time. Unless something really goes bad, I'll track my blood sugar, if half as frequently, and report at the end of the week. If all goes well I will go back to checking that two or three times a week and any time I feel out of sorts. Hmm, that won't work well in the short term though. I simply can't feel anything. I'm not sure I would know that I had lost a limb if I were blindfolded.
I have some belief my dreams will be erotic, again, tonight. Not sure what is up with that. It used to happen when I started pulling out of the funk of medicine, not while going into it. I've never had this happen before. I wonder if my body really likes what the medicine does now. I'm so down in the day that I don't mind the temptations that fill my nights. Women, women, everywhere. Upside down and over there. They tumble, rumble, growl, and groan. They enjoy our times together and love my... I'll leave that subject alone.
Good night.
.
It's felt like bedtime all day. Usually I have been staying up to midnight, sometimes later lately. That isn't going to happen tonight unless I simply fail to make it to bed. As with food, I can forget to... sleep? Yeah. I know I want it. But it means moving. I'll be giving myself a shot of the stuff, along with the rest of medicine for the first time. Unless something really goes bad, I'll track my blood sugar, if half as frequently, and report at the end of the week. If all goes well I will go back to checking that two or three times a week and any time I feel out of sorts. Hmm, that won't work well in the short term though. I simply can't feel anything. I'm not sure I would know that I had lost a limb if I were blindfolded.
I have some belief my dreams will be erotic, again, tonight. Not sure what is up with that. It used to happen when I started pulling out of the funk of medicine, not while going into it. I've never had this happen before. I wonder if my body really likes what the medicine does now. I'm so down in the day that I don't mind the temptations that fill my nights. Women, women, everywhere. Upside down and over there. They tumble, rumble, growl, and groan. They enjoy our times together and love my... I'll leave that subject alone.
Good night.
Exploring forgiveness with poetry.
.
.
A rough week, and more. Haiku seems to be slipping as my grasp on the conscious. Yet some have sallied forth, digital alphabeticists and mental gymnasts, tripping, stumbling, tumbling, and pirouetting over the notion set as theme, with limits given. I do enjoy, even the judging now. Much like a master chef who is allowed a discerning sampling of all that is sent from his kitchen, I too taste the sweet or savory that passes through my editorial blogger enclave. Relishing the nectarous poetry as I set to pick, a favor for and to the master of ceremonies.
.
A rough week, and more. Haiku seems to be slipping as my grasp on the conscious. Yet some have sallied forth, digital alphabeticists and mental gymnasts, tripping, stumbling, tumbling, and pirouetting over the notion set as theme, with limits given. I do enjoy, even the judging now. Much like a master chef who is allowed a discerning sampling of all that is sent from his kitchen, I too taste the sweet or savory that passes through my editorial blogger enclave. Relishing the nectarous poetry as I set to pick, a favor for and to the master of ceremonies.
Ah well.
.
.
At least I was aware that something was about to happen. And I honestly tried to figure out how to get to it, partake. I realize, at this point in the day, I have no chance of making the event. Physically it feels as if I was under an extra atmosphere of pressure, or three. Actually physically and if you could imagine that translating into how you think, as if moving through chest high muddy grass filled water. I get the idea on the radar, plan what steps to take, but can never quite get to it. I even added the incentive of getting a bite to eat to sweeten the pot. It simply can't happen.
I do think the medicines are beginning to hit. That on top of being down. While my mind is mushy, it is still functioning. Only within, however. It has no real means of translating thought to action. I've been hungry all day. There is food right there. Some of it doesn't require cooking. I am still hungry. It is still there. Such a small gap, sometimes, just can't be spanned. Food was a major incentive to get out. Thinking about it added to being hungry. You might think that I held off eating so as to be hungry in order to add impetus to my plan. You would be wrong. Nice idea though. I sure wish I had thought of it.
Slowly sinking, I think. Slowly going down. But now I can see it happening. It isn't fast, it doesn't baffle me. I am hoping it won't be as complete. I wish I could fight it but there simply isn't any thing to fight or any tool with which to fight. Attack sunlight with your eyes or attempt to defeat fog with a grimace. I will be starting insulin tonight, if I can remember. Later, perhaps good night.
.
At least I was aware that something was about to happen. And I honestly tried to figure out how to get to it, partake. I realize, at this point in the day, I have no chance of making the event. Physically it feels as if I was under an extra atmosphere of pressure, or three. Actually physically and if you could imagine that translating into how you think, as if moving through chest high muddy grass filled water. I get the idea on the radar, plan what steps to take, but can never quite get to it. I even added the incentive of getting a bite to eat to sweeten the pot. It simply can't happen.
I do think the medicines are beginning to hit. That on top of being down. While my mind is mushy, it is still functioning. Only within, however. It has no real means of translating thought to action. I've been hungry all day. There is food right there. Some of it doesn't require cooking. I am still hungry. It is still there. Such a small gap, sometimes, just can't be spanned. Food was a major incentive to get out. Thinking about it added to being hungry. You might think that I held off eating so as to be hungry in order to add impetus to my plan. You would be wrong. Nice idea though. I sure wish I had thought of it.
Slowly sinking, I think. Slowly going down. But now I can see it happening. It isn't fast, it doesn't baffle me. I am hoping it won't be as complete. I wish I could fight it but there simply isn't any thing to fight or any tool with which to fight. Attack sunlight with your eyes or attempt to defeat fog with a grimace. I will be starting insulin tonight, if I can remember. Later, perhaps good night.
To do.
.
.
I have missed several things lately. Some offered no advance notice. Those have little chance even in the best of my wasteland of a life. But others allowed for some significant notice. Some things I have made. The difference between one invitation or appointment is nil. I like to do. Today is another chance. I saw the potential for it some time ago, but was unsure. Surety arrived and so I have some hope of dragging my corpse out of this chair, doing what it takes to get ready, then go. Matters not what it is. Only that I still have enough breath to contemplate the notion.
Clean clothes? I think so but I will have to check. A shower and shave. If I do that in stages, leaving plenty of time to dress, but not being ready too early. It's a tricky thing in my state. I've been thinking about finding someone to help. The Lord knows I need it. That I even saw it coming as a possibility was... remarkable. The thing is, to get there at the right time. Time is so odd. It doesn't make sense in my condition. Alarms can help but not always. Truly, you cannot understand. I do know what it is to be a ghost. Still, that is the goal.
I was contacted by the dietetic nurse. I had... lost track of how to contact her, but it was on my mind. She called, thankfully. At least I have been checking my blood sugar and gave her a full report. At this low of a level, she thinks 6mg at night would be good enough. Hmm? As I said, the only reason I am not on oral medication is because it either is contraindicated, has serious side effects, or doesn't work. And... diabetes, with me, comes and goes. I still can't believe doctors don't believe that such a thing is possible when they have the blood tests to prove it. Never mind. I didn't start it yesterday as I couldn't find the stuff. Luckily I had a spare bottle, as I was told to only use the stuff for a month once opened. More is supposed to be on the way. It is supposed to be here today, actually. Hmm, right. I don't know when or how, or even by whom, I was told that, only that it is what I was told.
Dreams. Women. I don't know why but for the last week I have dreamed of women and sex so often my mind is bruised. Well, some part of it. The notion of being a salmon comes to mind. I just hope I am the type that returns to the sea! I won't say I despise the dreams. It truly is very little of what I like about women. It is just a vital aspect of the attraction and retention of women for me, and Doom for them. Strange how just a few stitches can mean the garment lasts or not, if that isn't... always the point. Donning love is such an odd thing. Yet so right in so many ways. Sometimes I feel cursed. Yeah, but... just a little curse? All night, several of those nights. Glad the docs have it wrong, that's all I'm saying. Right through exhaustion, somehow, and without seeming to exacerbate it? Weird fish, all I'm saying.
.
I have missed several things lately. Some offered no advance notice. Those have little chance even in the best of my wasteland of a life. But others allowed for some significant notice. Some things I have made. The difference between one invitation or appointment is nil. I like to do. Today is another chance. I saw the potential for it some time ago, but was unsure. Surety arrived and so I have some hope of dragging my corpse out of this chair, doing what it takes to get ready, then go. Matters not what it is. Only that I still have enough breath to contemplate the notion.
I was contacted by the dietetic nurse. I had... lost track of how to contact her, but it was on my mind. She called, thankfully. At least I have been checking my blood sugar and gave her a full report. At this low of a level, she thinks 6mg at night would be good enough. Hmm? As I said, the only reason I am not on oral medication is because it either is contraindicated, has serious side effects, or doesn't work. And... diabetes, with me, comes and goes. I still can't believe doctors don't believe that such a thing is possible when they have the blood tests to prove it. Never mind. I didn't start it yesterday as I couldn't find the stuff. Luckily I had a spare bottle, as I was told to only use the stuff for a month once opened. More is supposed to be on the way. It is supposed to be here today, actually. Hmm, right. I don't know when or how, or even by whom, I was told that, only that it is what I was told.
Dreams. Women. I don't know why but for the last week I have dreamed of women and sex so often my mind is bruised. Well, some part of it. The notion of being a salmon comes to mind. I just hope I am the type that returns to the sea! I won't say I despise the dreams. It truly is very little of what I like about women. It is just a vital aspect of the attraction and retention of women for me, and Doom for them. Strange how just a few stitches can mean the garment lasts or not, if that isn't... always the point. Donning love is such an odd thing. Yet so right in so many ways. Sometimes I feel cursed. Yeah, but... just a little curse? All night, several of those nights. Glad the docs have it wrong, that's all I'm saying. Right through exhaustion, somehow, and without seeming to exacerbate it? Weird fish, all I'm saying.
Monday, October 7, 2013
Haiku Monday - Forgiveness
.
.
Such a theme has been on my mind of late. For myself, for and from others, up and down the food chain as well, in ways, even beyond the food chain. So much in life is not perfect. I have played, and still play, my part in that. No matter the intent, or love, it seems making mistakes is part and parcel to the gift of life. I found forgiveness later in life. And I needed it sorely, still do from time to time. It's a mother's voice, a father's guidance, a rejoining of fellowship, a cleaning and setting of things to right, as well as we can. It's a gift best shared out as it was given. It isn't always an easy thing.
Standard rules, 5-7-5. Traditional trademarks of the art are always welcome. Let the dance begin!
Which side of the event do you wish to write about I wonder. Oh, I will see. I think both sides are generous, when given or accepted in the spirit of the notion. I am hoping you will find the time to remember these things here. I am grateful for all of it I can receive and giving isn't shabby either. I'll start out with a couple of offerings myself.
.
Such a theme has been on my mind of late. For myself, for and from others, up and down the food chain as well, in ways, even beyond the food chain. So much in life is not perfect. I have played, and still play, my part in that. No matter the intent, or love, it seems making mistakes is part and parcel to the gift of life. I found forgiveness later in life. And I needed it sorely, still do from time to time. It's a mother's voice, a father's guidance, a rejoining of fellowship, a cleaning and setting of things to right, as well as we can. It's a gift best shared out as it was given. It isn't always an easy thing.
Standard rules, 5-7-5. Traditional trademarks of the art are always welcome. Let the dance begin!
Which side of the event do you wish to write about I wonder. Oh, I will see. I think both sides are generous, when given or accepted in the spirit of the notion. I am hoping you will find the time to remember these things here. I am grateful for all of it I can receive and giving isn't shabby either. I'll start out with a couple of offerings myself.
not for me to say
asking in earnest, receiving -
what is afforded
grace gifted, no charge
the price is for Another
received mine in spades
Not bad, at all.
.
.
Sure, I'm not getting to things, but that isn't new. Yes, bedtimes are a bit harder hitting. But sleep is good, waking this morning was good, I am still doing days, though I need to try and watch that. It is getting a bit dry and stretched at times during the day. Still, so far, I think I can take that. And I am going to keep going as well and long as I can.
I thought, last night, to write a post filled with bravado. That didn't work. I then crashed a bit as bedtime approached and I thought about doing just the opposite. But that also didn't work. While I do write strange things, they have to be in line with the realities on the ground, or for the future, as I see and feel and otherwise sense them. That doesn't make what I write true. It makes what I write as accurate and precise as my proverbial eye, non-logical aspects, and mind, all together, can grasp. I have been wrong, for any number of reasons. Once. I have also been unable to 'see' clearly. But I haven't written what I don't see. That's as close as I get to not being bought and sold in this media.
I have never learned, exactly, how to contact that side of me. My ptsd therapist did help me do some things there. Now, for example, if stressed, "I" don't go away. And I can remember things, as far as those have been tested anyway. I am not shut out, mostly, if my conscious viewing window is much reduced. I haven't been stress tested to the extreme, though the actual white-water "swim" and a couple of harsh wounds were rather severe. Still, they didn't involve... darker involvements. The thing is, even if I worked to get those open, by openly channeling to that aspect of myself, I never did feel like I had made contact. It was like talking to a wall, or someone, some thing, behind it. I received no confirmation, only allowances. That is sort of irritating. Still, I will be attempting to do similar, with this issue. I have been working on it for several days, since when the notion came to me. Okay, I actually did get something back regarding my initial attempts at contact. I realized that I would be allowed to watch if I didn't try to interfere. On the other hand I learned to trust it. It's not a psycho, it handles stress well, and it pretty much knows what it is doing. It's simple job is to survive. Fair enough. But in this situation? I don't know.
I need incentive to go there, but the darkness I face is worth it. I initially didn't trust that side of me, and when I finally learned that I could trust it I just never was in the kind of shape to think to ask it to help. Yeah, it takes time. And enough health has to exist to even think to tinker with these things in this way. Plus, the darkness used to drop on me without any warning. Right in the daylight of life and then in deep space, without so much as a 'pardon me'. *bam* Things have changed, it is time to try to go further.
Do I think it will work? What, prey tell, do you think I think? Still, it's there, I'll give it a whirl, and time will tell. Oh heck, at least I think there is humor in it. A bit. Later.
.
Sure, I'm not getting to things, but that isn't new. Yes, bedtimes are a bit harder hitting. But sleep is good, waking this morning was good, I am still doing days, though I need to try and watch that. It is getting a bit dry and stretched at times during the day. Still, so far, I think I can take that. And I am going to keep going as well and long as I can.
No, I am just floating down the river. My boat is not hitting the white-water, it is not foundering, it isn't hung up in the shoal. It is just drifting. It is still going in the right direction, facing the right way. My fear is reasonable, just... early. I keep looking for a way through, a way to automatically helm the craft for when I am not able. A way to make myself able, to keep my hand on the controls. I have thought, and am, attempting to loose my own Kraken, to get my monster from the deep to lend it's strenght. Durden. He has his uses. Then again, for all I know, it is that aspect which is keeping me as afloat and operational as I am. Still, if he is doing so, he is doing so on his own. Two minds, even working for the same goal but separately, couldn't be as potent as two working as one.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
It comes.
.
.
Yes, mind and body have started taking a downturn. Just a touch, but several steps down into the dark have been taken. There is always a chance that the descent will be shallow. A bit of music to frame the events, and season.
.
Yes, mind and body have started taking a downturn. Just a touch, but several steps down into the dark have been taken. There is always a chance that the descent will be shallow. A bit of music to frame the events, and season.
Awake and still aware.
.
.
My first day on medicine has left me rather unscathed. Then again, quite often, starting medicine is akin to boiling slowly. By the time any indication is realized that getting out of the pot is noticed, it is far too late. Slowly sinking is okay, for my part. What isn't is that sudden realization that I have no clue what is going on. I've been there often enough that it isn't quite so bad. But there is nothing, not even thousands of times going down, that can quite prepare you fully. You must go through the horrors of it, almost fresh, every time. For one thing, you can't remember such things well. For another, while you are in that, you can't remember the past times at all, save some odd sense of deja vu . At least I know I don't go all apeshit. Some do, every time, or even once in a while. Those types don't make it long. Suicide or criminal mischief takes them out early. Then again, the only reason I am alive is because I outlived the suicidal behaviors in what I claim to be a miraculous manner. I will suggest not to even think about trying to do what I did, at home or otherwise.
Now, as I have mentioned, it is not that I am doing great, or even good. What I have to lose is the slim ability to mostly be awake for a full normal day. I have zero ability to function. The will, want, interest, are there. The ability simply doesn't exist. I am, for example, hoping to get trash out tom... today. It is Sunday, isn't it. I've looked at that several times today but the knowledge doesn't always stick. I sometimes still think it is Friday, or Saturday, or... hell... Tuesday? Why not, what's the difference. And yet it will probably get worse. Empty, hollow, a ghost with flesh if quite unaware of it. Sometimes I won't even be aware that I am, that I have been, or that there is such a thing as tomorrow. It becomes an infinity in a moment that never ends, or begins, or even is. I can't explain it better. You probably have never been there. If you have, you know exactly what it is like, if you can recall. As with funazushi, if you have had it you won't forget and there is nothing else quite like it.
And while there is this, the truth is to fight you must sense, feel, and have enemies and hopefully allies. The truth, here, soon, is more as follows.
I will do what I can and make do. At least I know what it is and that while it will be getting worse that it will get better. The first times I went through it, it was more like a very bad version of the Groundhog Day movie. There simply wasn't a successful way to get to a better ending, no way to live, no way to die, and the rest of the world was telling me to just brave through, get up, and get going. Huh? Yeah. At least they have finally backed off, mostly. I've made it this far, and it is about, when the opportunity is there, getting back up. Actually, I am doing that by first going further down. Shifting gears, a step back for two or three forward. All good. Later, maybe.
.
I will do what I can and make do. At least I know what it is and that while it will be getting worse that it will get better. The first times I went through it, it was more like a very bad version of the Groundhog Day movie. There simply wasn't a successful way to get to a better ending, no way to live, no way to die, and the rest of the world was telling me to just brave through, get up, and get going. Huh? Yeah. At least they have finally backed off, mostly. I've made it this far, and it is about, when the opportunity is there, getting back up. Actually, I am doing that by first going further down. Shifting gears, a step back for two or three forward. All good. Later, maybe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)