stepping on a carpet of glass…

A migraine is like sheet lightening accompanied by a monstrous thunder. An aurora borealis pulsing with my heartbeat on the edges of my vision. Usually this crystalline halo is all I have to worry about, the thunder of pain is distant; an echo somewhere in the recesses of my head. It is never the same. An ice lance pulsing behind my eyes, or an army of fireants tromping over my scalp, making each individual hair follicle a focal point of fire. Or perhaps the deep resonant throb of taiko drums at the base of my skull, or elephantine tap dancers in my forehead, right behind my eyes.

Thankfully my threshold is high, so it’s rarely that this cacaphony of light and pain overwhelms me. For those who deal with these more often than I do: May the fireants sting the tap dancing elephants to oblivion and the halo be washed away by rain.

listening to Recovery - Kosheen

Posted in journal | No Comments » | Tags: anatomy of pain, life, my brain

your complications keep me sane

I’m back! Not that you’d really notice, since I hardly write daily anyway, but here I am nonetheless. Think I’m finally over the jetlag - it’s wierd being nine hours ahead of yourself. I had to go back to work the day after I landed and I’m surprised that I made it through the day at all. The cats were happy to see me and slept on my at the first opportunity - J too, really. =P

Anyway, the trip was awesome. We saw all the places that my mom wanted to see, and some of mine. We started in Edinburgh and made our way down the UK as far as London. Scotland is so pretty and we we lucked out with the weather in a major way. We did not have a day of rain. Granted there was a little when we were on the bus to Loch Lomond, but it was minor - espeically since that’s all they had most of the summer: rain. Ate haggis, tasted whiskey and saw the town where my mother’s maternal grandfather was born. We also saw the birthplace of her paternal grandfather and her father, which was also quite nice. Lovely houses. Took a mess of pictures, and I am still sorting through them. The last week we had in London and we did several museums and the zoo. Can you believe that up until then I had never been to a zoo? Me either. It was fun, I got to see all sorts of critters that I had never actually seen before - and was mere inches from a Tiger. Granted there was glass between us, but when he cracked one eye open to look at us from his nap, that was very cool.

Anyway, the trip, among other things, gave me some mental time. I mean there is something relaxing about having nothing to really worry about except where to eat a meal and which train to catch. I think I have my priorities in a better order now than I have had for quite some time. I find myself marking the occasion with a spat of cleaning. The house, my hard drive etc. Sometimes I wish I could do the same to my brain: get a bunch of little bins and nice clear labels and sort everything into managable spaces. Har. Anyway, one of the things I was thinking about was how mental time seems to be somewhat at a premium for the most part. I mean it’s hard when you share your space with someone 24-7, but the hardest part is when you allow your work to overtake your life. I would find myself worrying about stupid things that I would have to do that week at work at the stupidest times - so I’ve got myself a work notebook. Everything goes in there as soon as I think it should be done and then I don’t have to take that worrying-about-remembering-to-do-things home with me. That and I honestly care less about the job now. School has become my priority, and so one of the things I did today was review the things I need to complete my applications. Complicated? Possibly, but neccessary for my mental and possibly spiritual well-being. I’ve got some emails back so I am prepared for the next step. Yes. I’m excited, there’s a new chapter in sight.

Also had time to think about other things, but more about those, later. Maybe.

Yesterday I consider my first real day back at work - and I pulled a major klutz move by tripping over a box. I didn’t realise until later that I had actually cut myself when I fell, right on my left forearm where I usually lean my weight while I’m at the computer. I thought I had a hair or something on my arm and went to brush it away and it came away all red. The entire back of my forearm, right above the elbow is a lovely shade of lavender right now and puffy. Spectacular, eh? I always wow myself that way.

Hrm… stomach is wanting attention now I think.

listening to: Nitin Sawhney - Cold & Intimate

Posted in Travel, journal, work | No Comments » | Tags: my brain, Travel

your silence hides you from the inside

Sometimes I wish I smoked. Then I would have an excuse to go out and just sit, staring into nothing. Thinking.

I feel sometimes like my entire universe is contracting inside my head, like a prelude to a massive explosion. I’m overcome with nostalgia, with anxiety, stress… things I used to think myself free of. Things I used to disregard as something for weaker people. Bit of a wake up call to realise that these things are breaking me down, piece by piece.  I suppose this is the kind of thing people mean when they talk about existential crises. I mean what the hell am I doing here? Sometimes I feel like everything is so fucking pointless and that we’re all running around like chickens throwing out emotions and fucking up with no idea what the big idea is. Heh… ok, that’s exactly what’s happening, but it’s frightening to think that no one on this planet has any self-assurance, or any idea at all that there is actually a direction to go in. Maybe I just feel like that because I’ve lost what self-assurance, confidence or conviction that I once had. I know what I would like to believe. I would like to believe that every thing happens for a reason. Not in the sense that everything is predetermined, because that’s the opposite of chaos in that there is no room for chance, change, art or individuality in that vision of the universe… and that is almost as terrifying as there being too much of that. I suppose we all want to feel like there is order in the universe, and even more so when there feels like there is none in our lives. But it would be nice to feel that and not feel so fucking adrift.

I find myself holding on to the walls, walking slower, laying on the floor, anything, to make things less likely to slip away from me. It’s a little like vertigo in reverse: I’m not falling down, everything else is threatening to fly up and away out of my reach. WHOOSH.

I keep thinking to myself: if only I had some time to think about things, to sort them out in my head… and then I think, even if I make time I’m going to get distracted with all the pieces that fit in, or should fit in and don’t. There really is no way for me to lay everything out and take a good look at it. In other words, I do not have the luxury of falling apart. By that I mean that life makes its demands on me. Rather, I let life make demands. I don’t have control of it, in other words. What I’m not sure of is whether other people feel the other way, like they do have control or if they know it’s an illusion and that they are just holding on to the pretense that everything is just fine. Wearing the mask, doing the dance.

Well, it’s not fine. I’m not fine, I’m overwhelmed. I’m managing, but I’m overwhelmed. The world is not fine: people are rude, ignorant, self-centered, and obsessive to the point that the pretense of society, of communities are stretched into incoherence. Everyone is disconnected and don’t know how to communicate; giving too little or too much of themselves and struggling to find a balance. Playing mind games when there’s no reason to second-guess thier opponent, who is in fact not an opponent but a fellow in the insane rat-race in the first place, someone who should be counted on, not suspected or mistreated or held at arms length. Imagined enemies, tangled intrigues from one level of society to the next - is any of it even real in the face of the fact that people go home every night and have to look at themselves in the mirror? How many people can do that and be reasonably happy with what they see there, literally and metaphorically?

whoosh…. I close my eyes and wait for the spinning to stop just long enough so I can take a deep breath.

I’ve stopped reading the news or watching TV, again. I stopped for a while before and then felt I should be more informed for whatever reason, but I don’t want to know about the killing and dying and general douchebaggery that seems to make up “the news” these days. I want to find something in there that makes sense. I want to see people getting something good because they deserve it. I want to read about someone rescuing someone from some nasty fate, I want to know that people, somewhere, are not self-absorbed assholes. I want to know that my fight to remain sane in this insane world is not futile or even unique. I want a damn success story.

But I say nothing. I can’t tell that story. Not yet. I have a long way to go, on many levels. Right now I’m workin on this reverse vertigo. I just need to sort my personal pile of crap into more manageable pieces. So if I seem a little strange to you people in the next little while that’s what’s up. My head’s in pieces in a way it’s not been for nigh on ten years, though there is no single thing that has caused this particular mass of little black rainclouds. They just seemed to blow in on me all at once and in a great hurry. Now I’m just waiting for the storm to break so I can let the rain wash my brain clean.

listening to: Kosheen - Cover
reading: A complicated kindness - Miriam Toews

Posted in fiction maybe, journal | 1 Comment » | Tags: life, little black raincloud, my brain, nescience, thinky, woosh

bantha poodoo*

I have long since given up on pretending that I don’t like the things I do to try and fit in with any one group because there is no point in doing so. (So yes, I love Star Wars and I’m a Star Trek nut to the point that I’m going to see the movie this year when it comes out and not just because it does so on my birthday. I also love Harry Potter, Firefly, mass quantities of Sci-fi and fantasy among all my other geeky pursuits. I love history. I love words. Sue me.)

I do, however, have a problem with the way things come out of my mouth. I may no longer make apologies for the things I think are awesome but I’m having a hard time unlearning a habit I picked up in the harshest of times in most people’s life: junior high. I’m not going to lament about how I got teased and whatever, because a lot of us got teased - I just happened to have several things to get teased about rather than just one or two. All I really wanted was for people to like me. And so I’d tell stories. That’s what my mom called it - but really, it was more like embellishing the truth. Blowing things a little out of proportion. Base-line, it was lying. I was not even aware I was doing this anymore it was that much of a habit. Stupid little things too, like saying I’ve read a book that I really haven’t because somewhere in my pea-sized brain I feel that you’ll like me more if I have read that book. It’s bullshit of course and I’ve been getting so much better at catching myself in these little things. I’m sure people have noticed that I do this more than they let on, so if I do it to you kick me, please. It’s a bad habit and it spills over into other stuff and I think that’s lame.

So no, I’ve not watched that one episode of Family Guy, even though I’ve seen several of them. (I’m not a huge fan of the cartoon, though I do think Stewie has his moments. So far as TV goes it’s better than UFC or that show about people who get in insanely huge trucks and then drive them across several inches of ice just to make more than I do in a year. Ok going to stop here because I’m in serious danger of rambling… )

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I want to make myself better than I have been. I’ve said and done things that I’m not proud of, so I’m doing my best now to be better than that. Call it self-improvement, whatever you like, I’m just tired of not liking myself.

Cheers…

*if you are a star wars nut, you’ll know what that means

listening to: Moby - Natural Blues
reading: nothing atm
eating: a cinnamon bun
drinking: chai

Posted in journal | 1 Comment » | Tags: geek, life, my brain, thinky