how to change a mind

I have decided to try
to see the alarms as the bell
that signals recess, freedom
from my nightly confinement.
I hope this is a wise change
that will help me get out of
bed tomorrow morning

allergies + insomnia

so tired I'm dizzy
sitting down, scratchy throat
even PancakeSheep is limp

Jeremiah 38-39

This is what
I do not understand
about us: why,

when both paths
are laid out
so clearly,

do we still choose
the wrong path
again?

while Orion sleeps

.

one-eyed cat moon

squints on the horizon

stalking the stars

.

Detox Day 6 Humor

I'm doing a 10 day detox plan that my doctor recommended, and this is day 6.  I'm not really hungry because I'm eating around 1500 calories a day (mostly in apples and pears and related juice along with the "medical food" for days 5-7).  I'm not hungry, and I love apples and pears, but I keep finding myself wanting certain foods.  And I found myself laughing at this fun bit from a recent post on the blog of an author I like.

Because I swear to God the entire week has gone like this:

Me (sitting down to keyboard): Okay! Time to write something interesting and amusing.

Brain: SHUT UP AND FEED ME.

Me: I totally just fed you fifteen minutes ago. We had a fruit snack.

Brain: FRUIT SNACK NOT REAL FOOD. IT’S HUMILIATED GELATIN.

Me: Look, Brain, I have work to do.

Brain: NO FOOD NO BRAIN.

- John Scalzi

 Humiliated gelatin.  Heehee.  I could really go for some pudding . . .

folk wisdom fail

Starve a fever.  Don't exercise
with a fever.  This is what they
say.  But what if you don't know
if the fever is a side effect of the
steroid or related to the cold/flu
you're coming down with now
that you can't get any sleep at all?

side effects math

side effects math says
insomnia + med-insomnia
= insomnia squared

The Day of the Layoff (3)

A man going the wrong way in the parking ramp almost hits me, and I snarl in my head about how much it would suck to get hit by some jerk going the wrong way and then be late to find out if I lose my job.  And then I remind myself again that doing the right thing doesn't magically guarantee you safety and happiness.  I should know this by now.  (I should know this BY NOW.)  So why does every reminder that I live in a fallen world feel like a kick in the heart?

the layoff

The rain falls
on the just and
the unjust.

Selah.

on the morning of the layoff

on the way to work
a heron launches itself
past my windshield

in this morning darkness
I can't tell if it's blue or grey
and it doesn't matter

early October

Some of the falling leaves are slightly soft and supple to the touch.  They hardly crunch at all, still mostly alive.  Perhaps they choose to die young and make a prettier corpse?  I don't understand.  They'll all end up as dust in the wind anyway, so why not hang on 'til there's no life left?

Ibuprofen/weakness

Every time I reach

for the bottle I despise

myself a little.

the doctor told me I needed to wear sandals indoors

At first, all I could see was the floral pattern.  Beloved of all the old ladies at the orthopedic shoe store, it seemed unbearably ugly to me.  But it was the only clearance pair that fit without irritating my foot crush injury.  Besides, I was only going to wear them inside, so the hideous flowers wouldn't be viewed in public.

In the darkness of my home, the flowers were invisible, and I started seeing the shape.  They have dark, unusual lines that are solid yet graceful, despite the size of my feet.  The shoes are named after butterflies, but they don't look like butterflies. They also are not as ugly as I thought they were.

right brain, left brain

I am at an awkward part of the pain spiral.  My left arm started going numb, so I shifted to carrying the heavier things on the right shoulder, but then that old subluxing injury started to flare up with intent.  Then I have to use the left arm, but then it starts to warm me that this is treatment up with which it will not put, and I am impaled on the horns of a dilemma.  I think I just need to learn telekinesis, so I can use my mind to lift things.  As long as I make sure to evenly use both the right and the left brain, I'm sure it will all work out.

it took me two days to notice

so tired that
I forgot to cut one
fingernail

quotes out of context

from Jeremiah 30:12-13 to OWCP
 
"Your wound is incurable,
And your injury is serious.
"There is no one to plead your cause;
No healing for your sore,
No recovery for you."

Yep.  My sense of melodrama is still doing just fine though, thanks for asking.  Reading Jeremiah makes me lean toward drama.  Being a prophet was never precisely easy, but wow, did he have a crappy time of it . . .

that day in August

yesterday
was a perfect day
for rainbows

Lies my fortune cookies told me

You are strong
and sensitive.
                                                    (possibly in a parallel universe)

You believe in
the fundamental goodness
of people.
                                                    (only in dreams, fortune cookie)

Others recognize
your sweet nature.
                                                    (when they see it hiding at its
                                                     vacation home in Switzerland)
You have an excellent
capacity for making people feel
at home.
                                                    (if said people normally make
                                                     their homes alone in
                                                     claustrophobia-inducing,
                                                     book-lined caves, not that I
                                                     could possibly judge them
                                                     for that)

not really one of my better days, but the pain is having a ball

Today it has felt as if some small creature with dull but strong teeth has been hanging from and gnawing on part of my left arm.

I am sleeping even less than average, and the night was very long when I watched it nearly all the way through until the light returned.

My right hip is throbbing like some caged creature needs to escape from it, and sitting up for hours at a time is more of a challenge than it should be for someone my age.

A tiny, invisible, serrated worm pokes at my right wrist and sometimes wraps itself around and goes into spasms--probably of joy and affection.  If so, I'm glad someone is having a good time here.  I just wish it were me.

Nothing gold really goes away

to Robert Frost

Nature's last green is gold
a thousand shades of red
orange purple and brown
ground up finely by wind
covered and hidden just
while winter wins until
Nature's first green comes back.
Nothing gold really goes away.

another split lip

when it is this dry

I need to remember not

to smile suddenly

Well, that's a problem, fortune cookie

Listen carefully.
An upcoming important
message may be subtle.

another reason I love autumn

Maybe a reason I love autumn
is because the world around me
starts breaking down, falling,

dragging, breaking apart
before winter comes to
finish the job,  and I

have been breaking
down since I

was 10.

the first maple tree

The first maple tree has ignited
soon the others will bow
to peer pressure and immolate
themselves and cover the sidewalks
in confetti that will grind itself
 away in
the wind
into ashes
and dust
and winter
will come to hide it all away.

the times I am most angry at OWCP are like this

• I'm trying to sing Brahms German Requiem, and my arm hurts insistently and keeps distracting me.  It hurts even worse 30 pages in from the simple act of holding the music and turning each page.  
• I want to help my friend who just had twins get some alone time with her husband, but I can't because holding even tiny babies and changing diapers will cause me agony later, so all I can do is come and help hold the babies while they are still small and sing to them since they don't mind that it is so hard for me to actually learn an entire lullaby anymore.  
• I have a great idea, and the muse is demanding that I sit and write it down right now before it gets bored and goes away, but I can't because my arm hurts, and things are busy at work, and I can't afford to irritate my arm any more, or I won't be able to function at work, and I have to function at work because I need to keep this job, so I can have insurance and because it's hard to find jobs that I am capable of doing anymore.  And so I don't write, and that hurts, too.

spring haiku

cherry trees are like
family you only get
to see once a year

the prayer

Dear God, please
be with my sister
wrap her in Your arms
let her feel Your love for her

oh God please don't let her lose another baby oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please oh please

contrary haiku

when the forecast says
0% chance of rain
I want nothing more

commiseration

the tree in the corner
is rusting away

not turning fall colors
just getting brown-splotched and
ragged around the edges

when I pass it

I sigh in commiseration

Today's beauty

Today's beauty is brought to you
by the blue heron
with the impossible wingspan
that took off from my side
of the channel and cleared
the tree trunk blocking the waterway
in only three wing beats.

my battery is drained

Today's exhaustion is brought to you by the car battery.  Last summer when it kept dying, I took it in, and they said there was nothing wrong with the battery or the alternator.  And then it behaved itself.  Until a couple of weeks ago.  And then today.  When it ceased working 3 times.  Good thing I didn't have to be anywhere until 3.  Since I couldn't get there until 4 . . .  And my groceries are probably spoiled now (though I didn't open them just in case they're okay).  But at least I could get a loaner car today instead of having to get the dumb thing jumped two more times today and then at 6:30 tomorrow morning.

Dear Hyundai,

Your customer service people are quite nice.  Your emergency roadside support people are also quite nice.  My experience with your cars is, well, not.

• Tires that die after less than 4 years (my last car's tires were still going strong at 6+ years).  
• A battery that dies every summer.  
• Maintenance costs I was told would be covered by the warranty that aren't.

I don't think I'll be a repeat customer.  Raaaaaaaaarrrr.

Signed,
Me

Siiiiiighhhhhhh.

an encouragement to kids going back to school

Your dreams are not guaranteed to come true.  You do not have unlimited potential and all that crap.  You have limited time and potential.  But unless you have dreams and pursue them, you will never know if you can make them come true.  So it's better to have dreams and try hard to make them come true than to deny yourself and automatically fail by eliminating even the chance of success.  Probably.  : )

The trouble with nature

So.  Bugs.  Summer.  I understand that the poor things don't get to move much for about half of the year, so I understand why they would just want to crawl all over the place when they can, but why do they like crawling all over me so much? 

When I can, I bike to a park with my blanket, notebook, and books.  I spread out the blanket and plop myself down and immediately become the Most Engrossing Thing Ever to the insects and arachnids in the area.  These guys love me.  They can't get enough of me.  It's kind of crazymaking.

I imagine this is what would happen if I went to a cat show.  I am very allergic to cats, and they just love me!  I don't make eye contact and, a cat-lover explained that I am mysterious and interesting to them. 

Perhaps I need to practice making eye contact with insects and arachnids.  Do I have to make contact with all their eyes?  That could be . . . difficult. 

I just want to enjoy nature, listen to the wind and the birds, read my book, be a sun camel, try not to smell the nearly stagnant river water, avoid getting hit in the head by those kids and their soccer ball, and relax.  I want to commune with nature, dagnabbit! 

Unfortunately, nature feels the same way.  And so we commune: nature walking all over me, me swatting nature or brushing it off without killing it.  It is not exactly relaxing, but there is definitely communing.  Sigh . . . 

Sometimes, when the book is really good, I don't even notice.

I can still smell it

I wonder if the smell of the lilacs still hangs in that yard or if it's only the memory so strong that makes me think it's still there so long after all the flowers bloomed and died.

Why?

Because today is
forty-six seconds shorter
than yesterday was.

eloquent roadkill

roadkill indicates
today is not a good day
to be a turtle

Is this even legal (haiku)

Thirty days have passed.
When will they (ever) finally
run out of fireworks?

young and grey

I am moving much less
like a woman of 60
these days (except for
the left arm, hip, and
lower back), but the silver
is taking over my hair
that much faster.  An 

odd tradeoff, but not 

unwelcome, I suppose.

.

the impossible dream

to OWCP with bitterness

I wake up
in the morning,
and I feel rested. 

I get up
and go
about my day,

and I
am not
in pain.

another chiropractic haiku

What do you say when
your chiropractor asks
if you do stand-up?

.

the view today

one set of windows
shows a sky mostly cloudy

while another shows sun
and blue sky I guess

today I get to choose

loving the darkness

.
I don't want to turn
on the lights because 
it will be harder
to see the rain
.

dead lilacs

The thing about lilacs
is that after they're dead
they still smell like heaven
for some time

another about butterflies

.
butterflies explode
like tiny silent land mines
on the bike trail

.

What I wanted to do that day

What I want to do is huddle on the couch watching the wind whip through the cottonwoods listening to the sound of the leaves and the rain drizzling down, just existing, not trying to distract myself from the pain or discomfort or the fever, not trying to accomplish anything, letting my thoughts drift instead of constantly yanking them back on course of necessity.  I want to watch the clouds move past in ragged layers in the sky and see if the sun will ever come out today.

Give me a warning, I beg you

Is it wrong of me to wish
you hadn't posted the picture
of your dead baby dressed
like a doll in the gift another
friend made for you?

Is it weak of me to wish I hadn't
seen that deformed face and
the blue splotchy body because
he never quite managed to take
his first (and last) breath?

at least the license plate is laughing

.

sometimes what
you need to
make it through
is to follow
a car with the
license plate
TEE HEE
to work

.

After the latest hearing

Is it good
I didn't cry?

A sign of maturity
and self-possession

or just a sign of
giving up?

when the trees are greener

the way the trees are greener
in a spring storm with rain but no wind
water soaking the trunks and making
then darker like the lead-grey sky
making the world glow
a bright and luminous green

What you call beautiful

What you call beautiful

How could such
perfect feet so
perfectly formed

be dead before
you took a breath?
What does it feel like to dress

your dead baby for a picture
to remember it by, blue and hideously
deformed and never quite alive

and what am I supposed to do
and to feel as I look at this child
you call beautiful?

On a windless day

When you look
at the heart of a cloud
it looks big and solid
and you can't see any
movement but if
you look at the edges
for long enough
I promise
there is movement.

A beautiful problem

On the walk back
through the parking
lots, I felt like I was

constantly
                 dodging

butterflies
apparently drunk
on sunlight, humidity, and heat.

mostly flat

like a crumpled piece of paper
left under the bed for years
found and straightened and smoothed
but curling up again along all its
many creases eventually
with the help of flat, heavy objects,
it may be persuaded to lie mostly flat
but the creases will always show

The mistake I made yesterday

The mistake I made
was to wave goodbye to a
friend with my left hand.

When the crooked become straight

I stumble more off-balance,
off-kilter because I have
been forced on-kilter for the first
time in years.  Because I've been
straightened, I feel more crooked
and uncomfortable like an amnesiac
trying to live a life I don't remember
as my own.

how should I pray

Now that

• you are freed from this burden you never asked for,
• you are bereft of the doomed life within you,
• I can't pray for a miracle anymore,

how should I pray for you?

happy birthday, dead baby

.
no more chances
for a miracle

just separation

grief 

and so much pain

.

the waiting (10)

It's hard
for me to wait
for the birth
and death
announcement;

I cannot
imagine how
hard it is
for you.

Soon
the waiting
will end.

Blooming hard

.
hard to drive inside
the lines with trees exploding

like silent fireworks

.

The end is nigh

The due date is near.  It's no longer mother's day but May 16th.  Three more days +14 before they induce.  I cannot imagine what it must be like.

Recently, my friend said, "He's definitely running out of space in there, so we'll see how long he stays."  I wanted to just break down.  What a tension she must be wrestling with: The clash of wanting every minute with this life, no matter how doomed, and the desire to be delivered (a word that never seemed more appropriate).  The day of his birth will be the day of his death, so she wants as much time with him as she can get.  But the discomfort grows daily, the burden of bringing a death into the world, as Cordelia said in Barrayar (only more literally in this case). 

The pain won't end, though, with the birth-and-death.  And the mourning won't begin at that moment.  It began long ago when they heard the truth about their baby.  Oh, friends, I weep for you, but there's nothing I can really do to easy your suffering.

There are kids outside riding bikes in the rain, and my heart breaks again along the same fault lines.  Oh, God.

as long as you believe

chiropractor visit two resulted in
pain and less sleep as my body tried
to relax and curl up in its usual ways

and failed most miserably because bones
and joints were properly aligned for the first time

in years, but only once did I wake
in actual terrifying minor agony; after that,
I was on my back all night, twitching

or gasping myself awake when I did
fall asleep (I was recently tested
and found not to have the twitchy leg

thing or sleep apnea).  Pain today
like bands of fire and joints wrapped
in flaming compresses, headaches on

and off and on.  Still I choose to believe
this is pain like the pain of the caterpillar
turning to goop, so it can become

a butterfly, as Miles once said
--maybe in the Warrior's Apprentice, probably
when he was hustling a crowd of unbelievers--

or as I more practically phrased it
to the chiropractor in my head,

"As long as you believe
this will lead to healing,
I will believe in you."

like origami

My first chiropractor folds me
like origami, and my joints are
not his biggest fans.  He promised
not to turn me into a puddle, and he
is true to his word thus far, but
he says there should never be more
than mild discomfort, and this is a problem
because it's rare for there to be less
than mild discomfort at all times
even when he is not creasing me
into a crane.  Can the crane say to the folder,
"Why did you make me this way?"  Here's
hoping I don't need a thousand visits
to get my wish to come true.  I can't possibly
afford that. 

Why I like exits more than entrances

.
There are bars
I can push
with a shoulder
or a leg  
           no handles
or knobs to grasp
twist pull struggle
with fail to open
cleanly
.

the birds outside

.
the fridge is making
disturbingly human noises,
groans like a soul in torment 

but the sound
of the birds
outside is louder
.

this kind of blue

.

the sky tonight
so brilliant living
vibrant blue

backdrop seen through 

cutouts of bare 

tree limbs

the kind of blue 

that makes you stop and stand and stare 

for longer than you should without your coat 

because this could be the last time 

you see this exact shade of sky, and you want 

to store its imprint on your eyeballs and in your brain 

in case there is ever a time when you need 

this kind of blue

.

the list of things I should do

.
the list of things I should do

is much longer than the list
of things I have energy to do. 

I suspect that this
is how it will always be. 

I am trying very hard to be okay with that.
.

Christmas concert 2011

.
moments so sublime
akin to sublimation
applied

beauty burning so
bright I transformed
from solid to spirit without
melting and then

water fell

.

good, bad, and . . .

Good news: it will freeze tonight, so I can open my bedroom window and maintain a comfortable temperature in my room without sucking in lots of things I am allergic to.

Bad news: I have no hot water right now.

(Not sure if these things are related.)

(Other) News: A letter from the OWCP came today.  It's for the hearing my lawyer asked for without talking to me.  The hearings are 5 to 9 months behind, a letter announced a while back.  That irritated me because I had sort of decided to try a famous nearby pain clinic, and the thought that I'd have to wait 5-9 months to go because my lawyer did something inexplicable made me a bit irritated.  Thinking positive, I figured that would be plenty of time to collect my thoughts and research and write a magnum opus of a letter that would help the OWCP see the human face and struggle behind my increasingly desperate(ly) irritated letters.

Today's letter says the hearing is scheduled for May.  If this is 5-9 months delay, does that mean they were actually scheduling these hearings retroactively?  (They've sort of done that to me before, actually.)

This means I have about a week to write that magnum opus letter, that triumph of logic and evidence that will show them once and for all that I am not a fraudulent fraudster (the way they seem to be treating me) but a person in pain who is a bit muddled and has been confused, misled, and treated poorly by a bureaucracy not designed to actually, you know, help an injured worker like me get better the way a normal insurance company would.  Theoretically, I work faster under deadlines, but, well, sheesh.

Probably 90 days for a decision after the hearing, and then maybe I'll be able to see the famous pain doctors.  They're probably scheduled at least that far in advance, so that might work out just fine.  I'm trying to make 100% sure they're in my regular insurance network in case these doctors, like the last pain specialist I tried, decide they don't want to follow OWCP's ridiculous and impractical rules, and I end up getting stuck with the bill.

In this week's weird neurological news, apparently my brain is interpreting temperature in my left hand partly as vibration.  Hot is fast vibration, and cold is slow vibration.  Today anyway.  (That's in addition to the more familiar tearing pain in my forearm and wrist and the ache-y time delay in my hand and upper arm and the occasional sensation of having my fingertips dipped in ice water.)

My life is an adventure.  What can I say?  : )

another day chasing sunlight (reading books Saturday morning)

.
another day chasing sunlight across the floor
no one asking for things I can't give
not even me
.

baby pictures

An old acquaintance posted a picture of his friends and their baby with anencephaly during his brief life.  The photo angles were careful not to show the missing parts of the baby's skull and brain, and I cried again for my friend and her husband, and I prayed they would have the chance to take beautiful, heartbreaking pictures like those, and I remembered my sister's baby who she never got to hold, dead before it was born, and I couldn't even cry.

unanticipated snow surprises me when I leave the apartment

.
this is what happens when
you say to the world:
leave me alone just for today
.

how you can tell the wind has been blowing hard

winter trees
like my hair
frosted white silver
only from certain angles

after the winter

This bleeding

heartbreaking
as it is

is a sign
that your body

is still
alive

after the winter.

Daylight Savings Time Stupidness

So on Monday, I sat in my cube in my new area, which has lots of windows up high.  I was staying late, working on some things I had decided I needed to finish.  And the sun was still up.  When the lights went out at their appointed time, I couldn't even tell.  And I had this thought: This is so weird; it's like all of a sudden, the sun is staying up, like, an hour longer.  I was puzzled.  I thought the change was usually more gradual.  And then I remembered.  That I had set the clock at work ahead just that morning.  Because . . .

Oh, Daylight Savings Time, I still hate you.

How long does it usually take you and yours to adjust and be less stupid?

Tree vampire

The trees were seeping from their severed limbs yesterday.  I noticed a puddle on the sidewalk, but everywhere else around was dry, and then I realized the tree above me had been trimmed around power lines.  It's been years since I've seen this happen.  This time, I gave in and put my hand under the stream and then tasted it. 

It wasn't sweet sap.  At first I thought it tasted like nothing, just pure water.  Then I realized that the salt I would normally taste on my skin was totally neutralized.

Today, I saw from the window that the trees were still weeping.  I didn't go out to check if maybe it tasted different today.  It's something I can only do on impulse, apparently, and not deliberately.

Maybe it's spring cleaning for the trees: out with the old water so the new can start circulating.  Or maybe it's more like a tourniquet being removed?

What makes them start and what makes them stop before they bleed out?  I'm sure science has the answer for these questions, but I'd rather just wonder.

a reason to take the bus

the problem with driving when it's windy
and the sun's going down is not

that your car gets buffeted around
making the drive white-knuckled or

that the light blinds you but that you can't
watch the clouds burning their way

across the sky because you are in the driver's
seat and you can't just stare at the clouds

Who knew?

It turns out that watching shows with lots of beautiful pan shots of deserts and mountains, explosions,  giant robots fighting each other, and pilots angsting over their lives is a good way to pass the time while you sort and organize your collection of 9+ years of OWCP injury files.  And playing shows with tons of potty humor and generally inappropriate content can help distract your mind from the rage as you figure out what to scan/bring when you visit the doctor one last time in an attempt to get a code added to your file.  Maybe I should have looked for something with more explosions because my jaw is killing me from when I must have been clenching my teeth while taking notes and marking things with sticky papers.

By this time next year, for better or for worse, pray that this fight is all over.  I don't want to deal with another year of this, even if it means the OWCP wins their game of trying to make injured workers give up on ever getting any real help and justice.  Just crush all my hope to atomic base components once and for all if it means I can be done with all this.  As I've mentioned before, hope springing eternal gets more head injuries from low ceilings than docile despair.

Miles once said, "I'm tired
of playing wall."  Me too, boy.
Me, too.

Did I ever post this? Because it's a couple years old . . .

I was so proud of myself.  When I left to go visit my family over the holidays, I dropped off a notice that my chronically-clogging drain was clogged again.  This time, I remembered to put away all laundry that was hanging on the rack on the back of my bathroom door.  This way, I did not have to return to my apartment and be mortified when I picked up the note the plumbing man left to say that he'd been there and fixed it and then realized that he had had to walk past all my bras to get into the tiny bathroom. 

Sometimes it's the little triumphs in life that make us happy.

tomorrow will be brilliant

.
water with an identity crisis
not sure if it's rain or snow
staggering and stumbling
sideways coating everything

a sound like glass falling
from the sky and bouncing
collecting on top of my hood
rhythm making me sleepy

icicles like grass   growing   down
from power lines and fences
every straight-ish line developing
sudden upper teeth the wind gnashes

gleaming trees promise
even if tonight is miserable
and unbearable tomorrow
will be brilliant
.

Invitation to care

There's more, but that's
what my friend's email subject
was condensed down
to on the screen,
and it was true.

If I sign up for
automatic updates
I will learn about
the progress of their
brainless baby.

I will get
to tick down
the days
until it is born
and dies.

Obviously I
should accept this
invitation to care, but
I don't know
if I can bear to.

Fortune Cookie, what are you trying to say?

"Good things come
in invisible packages.
You will be delighted."

What does this mean?  And does it sound slightly sinister to anyone else?

today we learned

Today we learned
that you should pray
I am not
the only one
near you

who knows hands-only CPR
if you need it.  I can last two
compressions before the pain
in my hands is too much. 

I would like to believe
the adrenalin would
let me keep going
despite the pain.  If
not, I will try
to get very good

at explaining
to strong people
with working wrists
how to do it, and we
can both help try
to save your life.

Wrestling the Sandman and other distractions

Slowly, oh so slowly, I have been edging back my getting in to bed time and getting out of bed time.  Now that I am not responding to student emails for three hours every night, I can once again try to tackle the sleep dilemma.  I don't sleep well (years of chronic pain mess with all aspects of your life), and I've been told that we've done all we can messing with all the sleep-related side of things.  The only way for it to get better is if we address the pain/neurological side of things.  Since that's not going well, I'm trying to find a balance between ruthless adherence to keeping the time in bed short (6 hours) to encourage my body to be efficient with its time in bed and just giving in to my body's exhausted demand for more time not doing anything (sometimes 12 hours).

If I only allow myself 6-7 hours of time in bed, I am a bit more clear-headed, but I am also very short-tempered.  If I let myself stay in bed as long as my body appears to want (10-12 hours), I am much more mellow but also much more muddled.  I'm shooting for somewhere in the neighborhood of 8 1/2-9 hours in bed since then I won't feel like I'm wasting all sorts of extra time trying to recharge batteries that won't charge, but I also won't feel like I'm demanding silly things from my already overworked body.

It's not easy, but I have been making progress the past week, at the expense of everything else.  I think I've spent too much time trying to do everything at once with a brain that shorts out when it only has one thing to do.  I'm going to try to tackle things one at a time and really put my foot down about that one thing.  Other things will suffer, and that will be okay.  Really.  My to do list does not contain anything that will cause world-wide problems if I fail to do it this week.  Priorities.

Willpower, go!

Watching Amadeus

.

Today I would not 

let myself cry about 

the newest wrinkle in 

the old cursed saga 

of OWCP, but 

when Mozart died, 

I cried and cried 

and didn't even 

try to stop myself

until after the last notes

of the mass had ended.

.

a reason to love mild winters

.
96% humidity
transmuted overnight
to fairy-frosted trees of white
.

Today I say to my fortune cookie

.

Today my fortune cookie

wisely says,

"Accept something

that you cannot change,

and you will

feel better."

Today I say to my 

fortune cookie,

"Bite me."

.

One of those days

.

when you don't even realize 

you've been wearing 

an article of clothing 

inside out 

until 4:30 pm.

.

The joy of moving cubicles

Oh, the joy of moving cubicles!  Packing things up, sorting through things, rediscovering things, throwing things away, recycling things, putting things in new places where this time, for sure, you are going to remember where they are really.  Arranging things so that from the point of view of people passing by, you look clean and organized (as long as you don't leave the overhead bin with all your plushies open).  There's something refreshing about doing this (and not just because I am leaving behind my old place next to the Noisy Neighbor.

Do you feel this sense of shedding old skin and donning new when you move desks/offices/cubicles?

Christmas lights from above

I don't remember the last time I flew at night just before Christmas.  I think I would remember the lights.  Instead of just the usual narrow range of city light colors that mostly wash out to a slightly yellow pale, the Christmas lights shine forth in slightly anarchic joy.  Random colors, random shapes not arranged to be seen from above: they are beautiful, and I love them and the chance I had to see them when the night flights were as cheap as the usually cheapest 5 AM flights I've taken the last several years on the way to see my family over Christmas.

Something I heard late one night

I didn't actually see anything.  I just heard it:  the crunching squeal of tires skidding on ice over and over for half a minute in the parking lot, the skid, the crash of a significant impact between two cars, the sound of something glass shattering, the brief silence, more glass falling, the engine gunning, more skidding, and a fishtailing journey out of the icy parking lot and away down the street at something significantly over the speed limit.  Why?

I thought about calling the police.  I didn't because, well, what can they do when you report hearing a crime?  I wondered if I should tell the apartment manager in case the poor person whose parked car got smashed into needed someone to back up their claim to the insurance company that they were a victim and not responsible for the damages.  But I didn't SEE it, and the insurance company would still have to pay for it unless the criminal was caught, which would not happen based on my testimony.

In the end, I said nothing and told no one and was very glad I pay extra to have a garage stall to park in at night.  I do that because I can't dig my car out of the snow and/or ice, but apparently it's also handy against random acts of pointless, stupid vehicular vandalism.  Yes, Mom, my insurance rates did go down when I moved here.  I can't really imagine why . . .

Why I hate New Year's Resolutions

I will stop putting it off.
I will call OWCP.
I will not let it ruin my day.

I will keep calling until they approve the new codes.
I will keep calling until they approve the physical therapy.
I will shoehorn the physical therapy in.

I will get control over the pain.
I will get a good nights' sleep every night.
I will force pain-addled body to reset itself.

I will watch pigs fly.
I will not give up.
I mustn't run away.

I suddenly remember why
I hate New Year's Resolutions.

To the ones who complain there is no winter yet

.
To the ones who complain there is no winter yet

To the ones who complain
there is no winter yet
I say

appreciate the blessings
of safer roads and walking
without your hood on
for as long as you can

the temperatures
and snow
will fall

different blessings will come
eventually
soon
.

between us

.

between us

The next time we meet, there will be
a dead baby between us, and I will not
know what to say, and I will not want
to make eye contact because I will not
want to cry all over you because things
will be sad enough for you and your
dead baby without my tears.

.

the last snow of the year

.
the last snow of the year

the snow tonight is lumpy
like biscuit dough ingredients
before they are sifted completely

tiny clumps collecting on the cars,
roofs, and pond   chunks off-white
past the street lights 

still falling
.

What we learned visiting family this Christmas

.

• We like our house cold.
• We should not walk on the treadmill in our winter boots.
• The apple corer we received for Christmas will definitely be sharp enough to cut apple flesh, too.
• We should not walk on a treadmill in bare feet.
• We love to stay in the warm cave of blankets in a cold house even if we are not sleeping.
• We are still susceptible to developing contact allergic reactions to adhesives on bandages.
• Taxi drivers are not all honest people, and we should just take the bus, no matter how much longer it takes to get home.
• We should not limp.
• Family can be nice in small doses.

.

radio station woes (not related to Christmas music)

So, are you really listening to a specific radio station simply because they clearly give the song title and artist for every song as all radio stations should?
Well, I'm also doing it because they don't play songs I actively hate, and they have a playlist that doesn't repeat every 2.5 hours.

A ringing endorsement if I ever heard one.
Also, they don't have 3 DJs in a row who make me crazy.

3, wow.  So that's, what most of the day?
Midday, early evening, and late evening.  People who make me crazy from 9 AM - midnight.
Yikes.
Also, I get reception for them wherever I go.

And that other station where you don't strongly dislike the DJs doesn't?
It has an effective range of 20 miles if there's no wind.  On the other side of the metro area from where I live.  Alas.

Ah.  What happened to that early evening DJ you liked? 
I have no idea.  He just disappeared one day and was replaced by another tasteless, vapid, milquetoast, nice, brainlessly middle class American value endorsing Dad who just kind of makes me want to vomit.

Whoa.  Harsh.
I know.  I feel bad that he irks me so much.  After the last DJ, he feels like a 100% false construct.

You weren't a huge fan of the last DJ at first. 
You're right.  I eventually figured out why: he challenged me.  He made me uncomfortable.  He made me think.  Jesus was real to him, a real Savior who saved him from a shattered life of substance abuse, addiction, and self-destruction.  He was so grateful to that God, so willing to talk about the struggle, so full of compassion and encouragement for people who most of us just want to ignore.  He was amazing.

I can see how Mr. Nice Guy would be a bit bland after that.
Yeah.  Boy Scouts, sports teams, the boat on the lake and the cabin, consumerism, blind assumptions that everyone is the same socio-economic class as you and goes to the same suburban church.  It feels so shallow and superficial.  I'm sure this new guy is sincere, but I can't stand listening to what I perceive as his smarminess for another second.

Why are you so worked up about this?
I don't know.  Maybe it's partly because I'm assuming they fired the other guy for being too edgy and real.  That always leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  I'm also mad at myself for thinking that.  The guy had a lot of medical problems; chances are he had to retire.

You just wish they'd told you or something.
But they don't owe it to me or anything.  I'm just being a jerk.  That makes me feel guilty.  So I punish myself with 80s hair bands, 90s British rock, and current pop country music.  A strange sort of self-destruction.

Your specialty.
Sigh.

on a cold winter's night

.
on a cold winter's night

outside my window
a mourning dove quietly
sings itself to sleep
.

"light snow mist"

.
"light snow mist"

I love the way
the world looks
blue on a winter
day clouded over
with an even canvas
of blue-gray that makes
the snow fall faintly blue
into the bluer shadows
on the light blue
piles of snow
already
fallen.
.

the sound ice makes

.
the sound ice makes

for Ann

if I could hear
the sound ice makes
when it is being born
I think it would sound
like wind chimes
.

Orion laughing

.

Orion lounges

on the horizon laughing 

at my (mis)fortune

*

"If it seems 

fates are against 

you today, they 

probably are."

- my fortune cookie

.