The key to a room of your own and a mind without end.
Yes, I haven't posted in quite a while. Um... cope. :-)
I'm feeling agitated and a little anxious today… like I'm supposed to be doing something else, to be somewhere else. It's almost like I feel that I'm about to wake up and realize that I am living in the wrong place, and that I really live in another neighborhood, with two children, and a garden of vegetables to tend. Somewhere else, I have a husband that comes home from work at 5:30 to kiss me on the cheek, and take the kids and the dog out back to play while I finish supper. I can see the little blue 40's-urban house in my mind's eye. I can smell the sweet basil and tomato plants in the garden, and I can hear the giggling and barking coming from the back yard. It all seems more real to me than where I am now.
And I wonder if somehow that is programmed into me, and it's my fear of not being what I thought I'd be that's coming back to talk to me now, in anxious restlessness, and furtive glances around me.
I never thought I'd be where I am right now, at the turn of the century. I used to look at 31 and think, "Wow, that's old. I'll be grown up by then, and be settled in my life." Well, I'm here, and I can say with certainty that I'm not. I just keep getting older, and I hope I'm getting wiser. But I somehow keep expecting that lightning bolt to come crashing out of the sky, and suddenly, I'll "get it". It's the same lightning bolt that never showed up when I was 18. I wonder why I haven't gotten that it isn't coming. That this is all there is, and that if nothing changes, nothing changes.
Well, I *have* been changing things….I've been trying (more or less successfully) to make a few life changes. I am learning how attached I am to food, and what sorts of comfort I derive from certain aspects of it, and of eating. It's interesting to observe, and I am often surprised at how much emotional stuff is happening just below the surface that I've learned to ignore. But I still respond to it, by relating to food and drink somehow, the smells and tastes and the colors.
And I'm seeing how differently my body runs when I put different fuels in it. Radically different fuels produce some startling changes, most of which I really like. But my lack of patience doesn't help, and I want to see stark results…. Yesterday. Yes, I know, patience. It's hard when one of my major distractions is taken away, and I'm trying to restrict another, simply because it inclines me to be ruled by one end of inertia, and I need to move toward the other end (the "body in motion tends to stay in motion" end).
And it doesn't help that I have a sedentary job (and that I *like* being in my head a lot). The body's been there for a long time, and for the past 10 years or so, I've learned to ignore it unless it hurts a lot. And that's probably not a good attitude to have. So I am relearning.
That's about it for now. More later; gotta go soon and Piddle for Proof(tm) (mandatory drug test for a new part-time second job). Wheefun. I have nothing to hide, but I marvel at the requirement of bodily fluids as a prerequisite for employment. I think about the lab techs examining my urine, and wondering about the chemical makeup of the person behind it. ("Look here, Wanda, this one's on a Protein Diet! And she's taking paroxetene hydrochloride, too! Also had some acetomenophen and salycilic acid earlier, along with a good bit of cheddar cheese, and a whole LOT of water! Whoo-ee!")
It's fun to imagine people being amused by my urine's chemical profile. Especially when I'm *not* using recreational drugs. :-)
More later.
I'm feeling agitated and a little anxious today… like I'm supposed to be doing something else, to be somewhere else. It's almost like I feel that I'm about to wake up and realize that I am living in the wrong place, and that I really live in another neighborhood, with two children, and a garden of vegetables to tend. Somewhere else, I have a husband that comes home from work at 5:30 to kiss me on the cheek, and take the kids and the dog out back to play while I finish supper. I can see the little blue 40's-urban house in my mind's eye. I can smell the sweet basil and tomato plants in the garden, and I can hear the giggling and barking coming from the back yard. It all seems more real to me than where I am now.
And I wonder if somehow that is programmed into me, and it's my fear of not being what I thought I'd be that's coming back to talk to me now, in anxious restlessness, and furtive glances around me.
I never thought I'd be where I am right now, at the turn of the century. I used to look at 31 and think, "Wow, that's old. I'll be grown up by then, and be settled in my life." Well, I'm here, and I can say with certainty that I'm not. I just keep getting older, and I hope I'm getting wiser. But I somehow keep expecting that lightning bolt to come crashing out of the sky, and suddenly, I'll "get it". It's the same lightning bolt that never showed up when I was 18. I wonder why I haven't gotten that it isn't coming. That this is all there is, and that if nothing changes, nothing changes.
Well, I *have* been changing things….I've been trying (more or less successfully) to make a few life changes. I am learning how attached I am to food, and what sorts of comfort I derive from certain aspects of it, and of eating. It's interesting to observe, and I am often surprised at how much emotional stuff is happening just below the surface that I've learned to ignore. But I still respond to it, by relating to food and drink somehow, the smells and tastes and the colors.
And I'm seeing how differently my body runs when I put different fuels in it. Radically different fuels produce some startling changes, most of which I really like. But my lack of patience doesn't help, and I want to see stark results…. Yesterday. Yes, I know, patience. It's hard when one of my major distractions is taken away, and I'm trying to restrict another, simply because it inclines me to be ruled by one end of inertia, and I need to move toward the other end (the "body in motion tends to stay in motion" end).
And it doesn't help that I have a sedentary job (and that I *like* being in my head a lot). The body's been there for a long time, and for the past 10 years or so, I've learned to ignore it unless it hurts a lot. And that's probably not a good attitude to have. So I am relearning.
That's about it for now. More later; gotta go soon and Piddle for Proof(tm) (mandatory drug test for a new part-time second job). Wheefun. I have nothing to hide, but I marvel at the requirement of bodily fluids as a prerequisite for employment. I think about the lab techs examining my urine, and wondering about the chemical makeup of the person behind it. ("Look here, Wanda, this one's on a Protein Diet! And she's taking paroxetene hydrochloride, too! Also had some acetomenophen and salycilic acid earlier, along with a good bit of cheddar cheese, and a whole LOT of water! Whoo-ee!")
It's fun to imagine people being amused by my urine's chemical profile. Especially when I'm *not* using recreational drugs. :-)
More later.
