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02.14.17 second step

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IMG_0385I recently rearranged my tiny apartment to satisfy my need for change and to make it possible to place my table by the window. Some would say that it makes the narrow lane of my designated living room seem narrower, but I ignore them. I like it. In the morning I drink my coffee and gaze out at the view my 2nd floor bach affords. I do a lot of daydreaming looking out this window. There’s not much happening on my street, but it’s busier than most. Cars scrape over the speed calming lump, ignoring the heed to slow down, and the dastardly part of me gets a smile out of that. Who knows why, perhaps because I am a person who believes in following the rules, so it doesn’t make for a lot of trailblazing. The lessons of my childhood were beaten into me so well that they are ingrained into my cafe au lait skin. My horizons have become not so wide.

Life is slow here. I buck against it, hoping one day I’ll wake up and this city will be like others I’ve lived. I like a healthy amount of hustle and bustle. It’s the energy that energy I crave. It feeds me. I need it. I live a mostly solitary life. Yes, it is mostly of my own doing and I’ve mostly receded into it.  It’s just me and my wee cat, my mostly toothless wonder. Her only loud demands are that I feed her twice a day and that she occupy my lap all day.

I suppose some of my reluctance stems from the limitations of my health. It’s anomalies and vagaries, there’s a why that sometimes my life doesn’t extend much further than the boundaries of my comfortable blue sofa or my memory foam bed.

I know the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, but I’ve become almost paralytic most of the time, with friends, families and my own life alike, so I often don’t even hazard that one step. I’ve become so accustomed to living an interior life, the life “out there” has moved further away and has become unfamiliar. I’ve moved further away. But when I am in my bathroom the messages coming at me are positive and affirming. And I sigh.

I write this while still in my pyjamas, hair standing up on my head (yes, Bijou is on my lap); waiting for the other shoe to drop. Safe. Inside. Waiting out the 2nd beast that inhabits my body. It’s how I begin most every day, save for the writing bit. Wait and see. Always wait and see….

 

About that inside my head thing…

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About that inside my head thing…

I read a lot of what others write and I voice small comments here and there; dispensing little crumbs and bits of opinion and rumination here and there, but I don’t give voice or life to the words of my own. I see lives being lived and expanding into new horizons and I feel mine becoming smaller, the borders of it closing in on me. I’m beginning to feel suffocated.

This is not what I imagined my life to be but I somehow feel helpless to do anything about it; I’ve been rendered immobile. Still I find myself unable to move from the sidelines and onto the playing field. Every new week I make small new resolutions to myself…Eat better, exercise more, get up earlier, leave the house but I am so busy getting in my own way stubbornly, like a reflex, I turn away or push back against the very thing I want to run toward. I’ve been working on how not to behave this way but instead of pushing through I feel as if I am receding further into a small prison of my own making. 

I’m not going to wax much anymore about this, for now. I’m putting it out there, for myself, to remind myself not to double back and backpedal but to slowly inch forward. Keep pushing. Put the words down, put it down there and dare to dream out loud.

Of this i know

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Of this i know

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What is 500 words

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I remember having to write essays of this length. Those tedious report-like stream of words we churned out for the interpretation and acceptance of someone else. Someone whose world view might not match your own, probably skews far away from you. I want to try to write something every day, perhaps even babbling drivel like this just to get something down. As much as essays are subjective discourses, they are also injected with some opinion on the part of the writer. I does, afterall, have something to do with perspective.

 Is that proper form however? I’d have to look that up but I’d probably forget it. I have spent some painstaking hours trying to remember people and situations; fleeting flashes of an idea that I lose within a few footsteps. I used to dismiss these lapses and carry on, but now I wrestle with my grey matter in an effort to recall. This only affects what is happening here and now or within the very near future. I guess that’s the long way of saying short term memory. Stored in my memory banks I discover memories so vivid it is almost like experiencing it all over; the good and the bad. I went to an event and an infuriating man I knew arrived on the scene. He is still the same person, not bad, but definitely on his own planet orbiting his own sun. Later, when I got home I tried to remember the short relationship 

Writing while swooning

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Monaco Sidestreet

(I wish I was here)

My head is swimming but there’s something I wanted to write. Yes, insignificant but words in the box. This is important right now. “Room to Write”‘s first lesson is to take a word that has two meanings. What’s the term for that again? Anyway, you are to write and keep writing for 20 minutes I think, and don’t stop even if what you’ve set down is nonsense. No stopping and going back to edit and no pondering over what the words are or if they are the right words. I suppose I could do this most any day without much difficulty but I don’t because it’s important to me that they are the right words. My mind keeps jumping back to the question of what the grammatical term for those words is. “Homonym”….? I think I might be right. Look, I’ve got one here: right and write. Brilliant. I’ve actually forgotten what the thrust of the exercise is. Once you have those two words what do you do? Babble on with the words in context? Yup, this is fascinating stuff, but this is my mind at work. If I wrote down everything that ran on my cerebral highway there’d be volumes of nonsense. Sometimes when I sit down to write, I find myself lapsing into inertia. I’ve already done a lot of writing. Texts, messenger messages, responses to emails, some tweeting and Facebook posting. I’ve even responded to messages on OK Cupid. Yes, I know, we’ll get to that another time. The Stories…!

I’ve got to go lie down. My fingers are shaking and I can hardly sit upright. My vision is mushy in front of me, but the thing is I wanted to stick to the discipline. Good thing I can type quite quickly. I’ve incorporated some pauses and short spurts of meditating into my life. It might be doing some good.

But then there’s this, this is what happens when your brains on drugs. Not those drugs, but the pharmaceutical. In the morning I swallow 3 tablets, 4 caplets and 3 capsules. In aid of what I don’t know because the problem, she definitely aint solved. OK, that’s it. My meanderings of today.

 

Ponderances

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IMG_1630.jpgI got the urge to sit down and write and it’s just because. Nothing is going on. I feel good, for the moment. I just want to set some words down, however meaningless. Perhaps it is because of this Mindful app I downloaded. It asked me to choose 3 items from a list of goals or life changes that I wanted to accomplish and one that immediately leapt at me was commitment, which I have not been keeping. It’s not easy, I’m a chronically ill procrastinating dreamer who hasn’t been able to stay committed to a lot of resolutions and positive life changes I’ve tried to instill into my life. Maybe I am tired of the constant struggle. It’s all work. Sometimes I would just like things to happen if I do what I am meant to do, run smoothly, but they don’t.

I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my future and what it holds.  I’ve done it often and it held different forms. I alternate between hopeful and catastrophic. I know what it won’t be the OK I used to envision. It has always been in the form of simplicity and humble which is fine by me because I am realistic about the provisions I have made for it and what I want out of life. Satisfaction imbued with a feeling of worthiness. A small home that is mine. I hope that it will be on wheels so I can go wherever I want. That is reaching I know, but it is certainly more likely than brick and mortar. Then, of course there are the medical considerations. I beginning to think my GP regards me as a hypochondriac. They seem to present as mysteries to neurologists, internists and some other “ists”.I’m beginning to think that these professionals may think I enjoy the rarity and mystery as if they make me special. I never wanted to be special like this!

I think about what I can do in this forum. I want to create a niche for myself, but my thoughts are scattered, everywhere and nowhere at once. I continue to ponder but first, the words. They are in the box. That’s a beginning.

this thing

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3238722776_ae69f3f3ef_o

drip drop

I haven’t found the voice that will allow me to craft a story in a way that I would feel compelling. Maybe it’s not really in my wheelhouse. Right now I scribble down this and that from the place that I know best. It’s not that I’m not interested in the world around me, on the contrary. I want to know everything, but what I’ve discovered about myself is that I’m not wired that way. I’m a generalist. I am knowledgeable around many subjects and continually seek to know more about any variety of topics that cross my path and pique my interest; constantly curious. You could view my assertion as a self serving excuse or something more but I am an intensely private person and engaging in this bloodletting is uncomfortable, as much as it is cathartic for me to set it down.  I apologize for this if you don’t really give a crap, but just pass it by if that is the case because I don’t give a crap either. This is my process, and yes this is a public forum, but I’m working on something here.

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