Hate to admit that I began taking chemical neural stimulants in the form of anti-depressants. But I did. Started out a week ago, with little tension headaches and talking really fast and not sleeping. By yesterday, got used to it and slept okay without jittering my legs and stuff. Sick today and sleeping most of it. Now it's 1:30 AM and I couldn't sleep if I wanted to. The fast-talkin' is back, as is the leg-jimmying and the tension headaches. Sneezing that won't end, and my feet are too hot.
Feel like I need to turn off a switch or soemthing -- CALM THE HECK DOWN, GRRL!
zzzz!
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
It gives me pause...
1) That a number of the President's cabinet members have resigned. Like, don't they have faith? Don't they even believe that the President can successfully navigate a second term?
2) That Nicollette Sheridan and Anna Nicole Smith were completely and totally toasted during the AMA's the other night. Have they no shame? Wasn't there someone attempting to screen out the drunks and addicts? It's embarassing.
3) That I can be so completely enraptured by a man who I've only seen in person, about 30 times. C'mon... wouldn't that give you pause too?
However, for the past 18 months, we've chatted on the phone, on average, seven times per day (20-30 minutes each). That's more than most people I know chat with their S.O.'s.
By the way... Awesome to see that Scott Peterson's Jury came back with a conviction against the man. What a freakin' disgrace of him! It just makes you shake your head in shame.
2) That Nicollette Sheridan and Anna Nicole Smith were completely and totally toasted during the AMA's the other night. Have they no shame? Wasn't there someone attempting to screen out the drunks and addicts? It's embarassing.
3) That I can be so completely enraptured by a man who I've only seen in person, about 30 times. C'mon... wouldn't that give you pause too?
However, for the past 18 months, we've chatted on the phone, on average, seven times per day (20-30 minutes each). That's more than most people I know chat with their S.O.'s.
By the way... Awesome to see that Scott Peterson's Jury came back with a conviction against the man. What a freakin' disgrace of him! It just makes you shake your head in shame.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Interpretive Dance
There was a point in my youth, when I did everything with purpose. Where I placed my feet when I walked, how many sips I took out of the water fountain. Not that I haven't, at times, considered the entire sitch a bit obsessive-compulsive.... But in reality, I wanted to do everything with a purpose.
These days, I realize that purpose is called God's will in my life. But then... my age was 13 and Daddy taught us to not be afraid of superstitions. Still, I was. So everything I did -- Everything -- was in multiples of thirteen. (I can't believe I just confessed that, but I did so live with it!). Imagine how debilitating that would be to a girl who was gawky, too tall, a little chubby, and infinitely unpopular? Everything about me shouted GEEK. Even my twinbie thought I was a geek. And not a smart one.
(As a curious aside to anyone who wonders how and why I push myself so hard to succeed? On account of because of the childhood of ruthless fun-makers of whose jokes I seemed, always, to be the butt. Look at where they are now. And look at me. Heh.).
So I was thinking how much I wanted my life to mean something by my movements, and how pi$$ed off I was, because Momma didn't enroll me in ballet classes. I could've been a ballerina! I just know it!
Like a virgin?
Try Ninja. There were times that I would place my hands in ways that were quite ninja-like as I walked down the lane at Mom's and Dad's farm. The height of cool looking purposeful movement of my youth. What about now? Well, about 5 years ago, Gene Roddenberry's Earth: Final Conflict. The way they navigated their ships. I ache. I ACHE with yearning to be that pilot!
The moral of the story is that it's important to have your movements be meaningful. There was a time not so long ago when I was loath to move. I was a big fat slob and I knew it. Now I move because I am running from something -- being unhealthy and being unhappy and being fat and having heart disease.
So the next time someone tells me that they only run when something is chasing them... try picturing the grim reaper with your death at hand. That's what will happen if you don't take care of the bod that God gave ya!
Anyways, the point is that inasmuch as I despise interpretive dance... I probably am an interpretive dancer, deep down in my heart.
These days, I realize that purpose is called God's will in my life. But then... my age was 13 and Daddy taught us to not be afraid of superstitions. Still, I was. So everything I did -- Everything -- was in multiples of thirteen. (I can't believe I just confessed that, but I did so live with it!). Imagine how debilitating that would be to a girl who was gawky, too tall, a little chubby, and infinitely unpopular? Everything about me shouted GEEK. Even my twinbie thought I was a geek. And not a smart one.
(As a curious aside to anyone who wonders how and why I push myself so hard to succeed? On account of because of the childhood of ruthless fun-makers of whose jokes I seemed, always, to be the butt. Look at where they are now. And look at me. Heh.).
So I was thinking how much I wanted my life to mean something by my movements, and how pi$$ed off I was, because Momma didn't enroll me in ballet classes. I could've been a ballerina! I just know it!
Like a virgin?
Try Ninja. There were times that I would place my hands in ways that were quite ninja-like as I walked down the lane at Mom's and Dad's farm. The height of cool looking purposeful movement of my youth. What about now? Well, about 5 years ago, Gene Roddenberry's Earth: Final Conflict. The way they navigated their ships. I ache. I ACHE with yearning to be that pilot!
The moral of the story is that it's important to have your movements be meaningful. There was a time not so long ago when I was loath to move. I was a big fat slob and I knew it. Now I move because I am running from something -- being unhealthy and being unhappy and being fat and having heart disease.
So the next time someone tells me that they only run when something is chasing them... try picturing the grim reaper with your death at hand. That's what will happen if you don't take care of the bod that God gave ya!
Anyways, the point is that inasmuch as I despise interpretive dance... I probably am an interpretive dancer, deep down in my heart.
Friday, November 05, 2004
Thursday, November 04, 2004
Get your freak-on.. OFF!
Mister Wunderbar is on his way here in one week. Just a visit.
He sent me an e-card the other day quoting the book of Ruth, chapter 1 verse 16: "Where you go I will go and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God." It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It made me burst with happiness. I felt full.
Things are not so easy or fuzzy today and I know its that "one week freak-out" that we always go thru... Exactly one week before we see eachother. Now that's not true: we used to freak out a few weeks before meeting. Then a couple of weeks. Now it's down to one week. But why the freak-out? It's like "I love ya honey, but I just can't smile"... Remember that? The childhood game, I mean. I love you honey... but I just can't smile.
I was thinking... never let 'em see you sweat... but that's just not me. I need to be needed just as much as I need. And love? Don't even get me started. I have enough love to do it all by myself. But it doesn't work that way. It takes two.
My hope is that one day the one week freak will whittle down to a few hour freak -- preferably after one of us has already boarded the plane. And then who knows? Perhaps we'll just get giddy before we drive home from work only to find the other one already there waiting with a smile.
Until then I have to pretend to be as cool as ice without letting it break my heart.
He sent me an e-card the other day quoting the book of Ruth, chapter 1 verse 16: "Where you go I will go and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God." It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It made me burst with happiness. I felt full.
Things are not so easy or fuzzy today and I know its that "one week freak-out" that we always go thru... Exactly one week before we see eachother. Now that's not true: we used to freak out a few weeks before meeting. Then a couple of weeks. Now it's down to one week. But why the freak-out? It's like "I love ya honey, but I just can't smile"... Remember that? The childhood game, I mean. I love you honey... but I just can't smile.
I was thinking... never let 'em see you sweat... but that's just not me. I need to be needed just as much as I need. And love? Don't even get me started. I have enough love to do it all by myself. But it doesn't work that way. It takes two.
My hope is that one day the one week freak will whittle down to a few hour freak -- preferably after one of us has already boarded the plane. And then who knows? Perhaps we'll just get giddy before we drive home from work only to find the other one already there waiting with a smile.
Until then I have to pretend to be as cool as ice without letting it break my heart.
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