Monday, February 23, 2009

Still, it happened inside my head

Mountain Top

We hiked Neah-kah-nie mountain this weekend and took pictures there, looming large over the town of Manzanita where I lived for three heart-achy years. It was a steep hike, and I even thought I might pitch off the windy summit being top-heavy like I am making my way across the toothy vertical rock ridge. I stopped to tightened my shoelaces to not slide and roll inside my shoes and risk that fatal descent.

Neah-kah-nie Mountain

We had hiked to the same place where I took this photo of Cairo more than 9 years ago. What is that property of time that make the years accordian this way, far and near?




Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Someday I will do everything right

I sent myself a text message in the middle of the night last night, 4:01am, something illegible about grammar. I have grammar stuck in my head like a song. There is a thought bubble above my head parsing language, adding parenthetical commentary to everything I say. ANNOYING (adjective). It's annoying because I am not very good at grammar. Gerunds and infinitives, predicate adjectives, prepositional phrases... it can be explained to me a thousand million times but in my brain they just won't be pinned down.

Maybe by grammar I am trying to avoid baby preparations because I am reacting in the worst possible way, which is to do nothing at all. I am totally immobilized. I work a million hours and can't convince myself to take any time off. I don't have the emotional apparatus to face down a daunting task, certainly not by putting aside my anxiety and doing what I know needs to be done.

I work four 12-hr days, then two 5-hr days, then a 4-hr day which I don't work every other week equaling two whole, non-consecutive days off each month. I manage to get myself dressed and fed everyday (even if I eat too much sugar, processed white flour and simple carbs. Argh. I even feel guilt when I eat fruit because I eat it with so much voracity that I think that headlight bearing down on me might be gestational diabetes).

But I do get myself out the door. Everyday I quote Aristotle, say to myself that "we are what we repeatedly do..." while flossing my teeth, while shining my shoes for the fat lady. (Today my gums hurt too badly to be flossed which, Internet says, is because my teeth are in rapid pregnancy decay. Oh panic!)

My problem in part is that I don't want to do anything that does not solve the root problem. If my bathroom mirror is dirty just cleaning it isn't good enough because I need to figure out why I keep putting off the cleaning of the mirror to the point of disgrace. IF I CLEAN THE MIRROR THIS SUNDAY BUT FAIL TO ENSURE THAT IT WILL BE CLEANED EVERY SUNDAY HENCEFORTH THEN MY EFFORTS ARE FOR NAUGHT.

So I went to the office supply store and bought a huge dry erase calendar and spent hours making a list of every single task around the house,, and now I have to sit down and schedule out the entire next prototype month of cleanliness... floorboards, water filter, cobwebs, chimney sweep... Every single task a household might require be done in a days, weeks, month, or years time. ONLY WHEN MY ENTIRE HYGENIC FUTURE IS ASSURED, ONLY THEN CAN I GO AHEAD AND CLEAN MY BATHROOM MIRROR.

The problem is that every day I barely have time to squeeze in a few miles and a conversation with my husband. The dry erase solution is on a to-do pile along with paint samples, the kitchen remodeling catalog, tax forms, warranties and receipts, baby books, our five year plan, interpreter certification materials, medical bills, and an entirely blank paper with the words BABY NAMES scrawled on the top. And everyday more toothpaste gets flecked onto my bathroom mirror.


Life is so sysyphian. All I do, and do and (don't) do... the universe continues its spiral into disorder. Sigh.

Monday, February 09, 2009

I think today is one of the top tiredest days of my life. I slept for eight full hours last night, then went back home at noon to sleep for an hour and a half between jobs and even briefly weighed the value of my career over that of an hour more on my pillow. Still unrelenting, my exhaustion can only be characterized as painful. Excruciating. I want to dig out my eyeballs and fill my head with dirt. I want to sleep forever.

Friday, February 06, 2009

Dying doesn't hold the same fascination anymore

Yesterday I started thinking if my axle broke after years of driving this same old car around corners like a race car, everything all weak and loose and then suddenly it can't take the strain and the drive train breaks apart and the car can't be steered and I have to open the door and jump out just as the car careens off a cliff... ...and I am all, WHEW THAT WAS CLOSE but suddenly I think BUT WAIT, WHAT IF... and an infant appears in the scene strapped to a car seat in the back and there isn't enough time to save my baby but I already jumped out of the car and I am alone watching the car go over and I feel horrible because what am I going to do when this happens? And then I realize that my heart rate is way up and I am gripping the wheel in real traffic all stressed out because my suspension sounds creaky and it means that I am going to live out the rest of my life in a long black veil haunting the cliffs beyond death, wailing like the wind.

Sunday, February 01, 2009

It's a girl

I don't have many cravings; fruit, mineral water and maybe the desire to melt cheese all over my food. But today I was just starving to hear Solitary Man, and was drawn to eat the rest of the banana creme pie in the fridge. The pie made me feel like I was coated with grime on the inside, so I lay on the couch for an hour and a half and wondered why. I still haven't been able to listen to Solitary Man but sang what I could recall of the lyrics to my baby in the shower.

I have been listening to bearded long-hairs of the 1970s while Pandora explores the Neil Diamond musical genome for me. I do have the song on my PC, about a 30 second walk from where I am sitting with my laptop in the front room but that would be anti-climactic, and besides, I like to feel the longing. Oh Bob Seger! Yes, I am still the same!

Is that all I have to say? Yes.


About Me