Vaseline:
I have this image in my head of miners all grimy and dirty with soft, soft hands on which the scars of every day simply fade away.
Band-aids:
People are less demonstrably curious about an inch long gash above your eyebrow than they are about a band-aid covering said gash.
Wandering the apartment at night:
Doorways have a tendency to jump out at you when you're not looking.
Gashes above your eyebrow:
Bleed A LOT!
Lots of blood running down your face and dripping off your nose:
Just might make you puke.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Anybody got some glue? Maybe a bandaid?
I feel broken today. I went to gym class this morning, and I did all of the shoulder exercises without the resistance. My right shoulder is still painful. My shoulder and thigh feel as though the rubberband holding them together has a knot in it. I can feel the knot moving when I do my exercises. Sometimes when I move in a certain way, it feels as if the knot is pressed on two sides by the rest of the body part. I feel sad and weepy because of it. I don’t know if I should press on and ignore it, go to the doctor (who will likely say there’s nothing physiologically wrong), or just crawl into a ball and cry about it. I must say, the latter seems particularly appealing at the moment. I’m tired of being broken. Every time I think I’ve discovered the fix, I break again. I’m starting to think the Cymbalta was helping with the pain more than I realized (nearly 4 weeks without Cymbalta).
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Is it ever enough?
I participated in the Body Sculpt class at the Y this morning. I've been working out like a fiend lately. 5 times a week at least. Been doing some strength training, too. Usually 2 days a week. After this morning, I realize I need to spend more time on back and shoulders. I've been so focused on my abs for so long this class's ab work barely registered, but a few minutes of back work with the bands and I was really feeling it. I'm exercising in part to replace cymbalta with natural endorphins. When I was first starting the taper, I thought it was really working. Now that I'm down to half a pill (I actually opened the capsule on a plate and isolated about half of the little beads with a sharp knife) every 4 days, I'm feeling less confident in my "diet and exercise is all I need" conviction. I've started to believe in the past two months that I've moved from one alternative health practitioner to another over the past 10 years hoping that this new one has the key to why I always feel so shitty. I often feel better for a time on these various plans, but the long-run leaves me in pain and exhausted. When exercise and clean eating showed such promise I decided that I have the key, and I need to take that responsibility to be mindful of what I eat and make time for exercise. I haven't given up on this notion, but I am starting to worry that this is just my most recent in a long line of health obsessions from acupuncture to ayurveda to autonomic testing to myofascial release. Of course, diet and exercise have several positive benefits the others are missing, including the 7 pounds I've lost, the improved quality of my complexion, and the relative low cost associated (I owe nearly $1000 to my most-recent favorite practitioner!). But my pain levels are starting to increase again. I begin to think maybe the key is diet and exercise AND cymbalta. I guess I should get all the way off the cymbalta (so that the withdrawal symptoms are over) before I decide.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Lotus-Eaters
I'm reading concurrently Homer's The Odyssey and James Joyce's Ulysees. I'm also skimming Stuart Gilbert's work on Ulysses, chapter by chapter. Last night I read book 5 in each work, "The Lotus-Eaters." I'm struck, every time, by Joyce's capacity to capture the random, streaming thoughts of his characters and translate them into words on paper. I'm particularly intrigued by the way in which that inner monologue integrates into a third-person narrative of how events are taking place. My last post experimented with the stream of consciousness stuff. I could've gone on and on in that vein, but I realized that nothing was happening. It was just thinking. The difference in Joyce is the presence of that third person omniscient narrator with whose words the first person musings fit together. It's mundane, but there is action in the novel. My experiment had none--just me remembering earlier action and thinking about it. Spoiler alert: I'll probably try again before this Odyssey/Ulysses experiment is over.
Stuart Gilbert leaves me cold. He somehow manages to inject antisemitism into his commentary where I see none in Joyce (in the novel, for sure, but not from the author). It's not an overt sort of Third Reich kind of antisemitism, more of a sort of quiet curtness when referring to Bloom's father as "that old Jew." It's possible I'm being unfair to Mr. Gilbert, but he leaves me with an unpleasant taste. I may seek out a different commentator.
For Homer, I'm reading a fairly recent translation, published by my employer. A translation in verse, it feeds me beautiful phrases. Last night I read, regarding a huge storm at sea, "a night was roused from the heavens." In cases like that, I'm not sure if I'm enjoying Homer or his translator. In moments where we're told, regarding Calypso (Kalupso per my translator) "THe Nymph was a pleasure/ no longer, he slept with her nights because he was forced to / in hollow caves, unwilling, although the Goddess was willing," I'm pretty sure I'm reacting to Homer himself. I guess this is supposed to make us feel better about god-like Odysseus. We've seen his wife and son suffering in his absence. Poor Penelope doing everything she can to avoid sleeping with another man--though they line up at her door for the chance--I guess since we've seen that already by the time we get to this book 5, Homer has to tell us that even though Odysseus was unfaithful to Penelope with Calypso, he didn't enjoy it, and he cried about it every day. Feh. I don't get it. I mean, he thought he'd never get home to "the well-loved land of his fathers," what's the big deal that he took up with a god's daughter? I mean, really, ten years away from home with little hope of returning, and some half god or goddess made themselves available, who wouldn't? I guess that's why Homer doesn't claim that he didn't. I guess it just feels like the hero "doth protest too much" on the whole sleeping with a goddess thing.
Stuart Gilbert leaves me cold. He somehow manages to inject antisemitism into his commentary where I see none in Joyce (in the novel, for sure, but not from the author). It's not an overt sort of Third Reich kind of antisemitism, more of a sort of quiet curtness when referring to Bloom's father as "that old Jew." It's possible I'm being unfair to Mr. Gilbert, but he leaves me with an unpleasant taste. I may seek out a different commentator.
For Homer, I'm reading a fairly recent translation, published by my employer. A translation in verse, it feeds me beautiful phrases. Last night I read, regarding a huge storm at sea, "a night was roused from the heavens." In cases like that, I'm not sure if I'm enjoying Homer or his translator. In moments where we're told, regarding Calypso (Kalupso per my translator) "THe Nymph was a pleasure/ no longer, he slept with her nights because he was forced to / in hollow caves, unwilling, although the Goddess was willing," I'm pretty sure I'm reacting to Homer himself. I guess this is supposed to make us feel better about god-like Odysseus. We've seen his wife and son suffering in his absence. Poor Penelope doing everything she can to avoid sleeping with another man--though they line up at her door for the chance--I guess since we've seen that already by the time we get to this book 5, Homer has to tell us that even though Odysseus was unfaithful to Penelope with Calypso, he didn't enjoy it, and he cried about it every day. Feh. I don't get it. I mean, he thought he'd never get home to "the well-loved land of his fathers," what's the big deal that he took up with a god's daughter? I mean, really, ten years away from home with little hope of returning, and some half god or goddess made themselves available, who wouldn't? I guess that's why Homer doesn't claim that he didn't. I guess it just feels like the hero "doth protest too much" on the whole sleeping with a goddess thing.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Detox anyone?
I saw Julie and Julia yesterday with my aunt. It was a nice little flick. I enjoyed the relationship between Julia and Paul Child. Mainly, though, it made me want to write more. Julie of the movie's title is feeling lost and unfocused. She finds some solace in cooking, so comes to decide to cook her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year and blog about the results. The movie is about how Julie comes to be a better, more self-aware person through her relationship with Julia. My take-away? Writing every day helps get the poison out of a person and onto the page (virtual though it may be). The movie intensified an itch to create--to write, paint, whatever.
I feel full of poison lately. My grandmother, my father's mother, passed away ten days ago. She was literally full of poison. 60 years of smoking opened the door for a cancer that made itself painfully at home throughout her thin frame. She was never larger than thin, but the day before she died I sat at her bedside and couldn't help but see echos of concentration camp victims. Her sternum visibly protruded so that I could see where her ribs met to form the cage in which her breath labored. I stroked her cheek and forehead, and felt the angles of her skull below her soft, wrinkled skin. She was in a lot of pain. I'm grateful the pain is over, but I miss her.
The death of a grandparent has sufficient pathos on its own to sustain sadness, but life is never simple. Grandma left behind her son (my dad), and a daughter (the aunt mentioned above). My aunt has cerebral palsy, and has all of her life. Her condition is fairly severe, and has sentenced her to a wheelchair for most of her life. She has use of her left arm and some use of her right. Her legs are completely out of her control. My grandmother was her primary care-giver. My aunt is afraid there won't be enough money--or perhaps compassion--for her to stay in the home she shared with her mother. We're working on finding help with money from the government and other public and private agencies. The compassion won't be a problem as long as my father is alive. His wife, however, takes every opportunity to remind her handicapped sister-in-law that it is not the grace of god for which Robin should pray.
*****
Hot Vinyasa yoga class this afternoon. Strenuous. Good. The end of the class, face, belly and palms to the ceiling, damp with sweat, "I think I'm going to cry." Saw a play, once, something about crying in downward dog "sometimes a breakdown is really a breakthrough." Thought to hide my eyes below my towel. Room full of people, all of them face, belly, palms to the ceiling, damp with sweat. Teacher's voice low, sweet, "focus on your third eye." Crying silently, wondered what my face looks like from above, corners of mouth downturned, eyes squinched closed, tears falling down the sides of my face into my ears. Gave myself permission only for a moment. Pull it together for final "Namastay," mat rolling, walk to car. Worked out six days this week. Five days last week. Five the week before. Have to remember to note in iTouch. I like the blue squares filling the blocks of days. Jolt from the cymbalta withdrawal. Wrong time to get off anti-depressant? Below therapeutic dose for months. Fibromyalgia. FDA-approved. Not pregnancy-approved. Will we ever get pregnant? Tears in my throat again. Workouts good for fibromyalgia and tears. Cardio Blast 6:15 AM. Tomorrow. Get up 5:30. Dress in gym clothes. Already laid out. Dogs out. Must find new home for Wally. Poor Wally. He's no Pixie. Little Pixie. Cold wet nose. Amber eyes. Velvet ears. Pets are good for fibromyalgia. And tears. Read Joyce tonight? Maybe too late. Homer's turn, anyway. Odyssey, Ulysses, Odyssey, Ulysses. Read about Leopold's shit. Funny. Obscene. Matt says no question it was obscene. Question is it gratuitous? Court case helped Lenny Bruce. Obscenity covered by 1st amendment. No other gods before me. No, free speech.
I feel full of poison lately. My grandmother, my father's mother, passed away ten days ago. She was literally full of poison. 60 years of smoking opened the door for a cancer that made itself painfully at home throughout her thin frame. She was never larger than thin, but the day before she died I sat at her bedside and couldn't help but see echos of concentration camp victims. Her sternum visibly protruded so that I could see where her ribs met to form the cage in which her breath labored. I stroked her cheek and forehead, and felt the angles of her skull below her soft, wrinkled skin. She was in a lot of pain. I'm grateful the pain is over, but I miss her.
The death of a grandparent has sufficient pathos on its own to sustain sadness, but life is never simple. Grandma left behind her son (my dad), and a daughter (the aunt mentioned above). My aunt has cerebral palsy, and has all of her life. Her condition is fairly severe, and has sentenced her to a wheelchair for most of her life. She has use of her left arm and some use of her right. Her legs are completely out of her control. My grandmother was her primary care-giver. My aunt is afraid there won't be enough money--or perhaps compassion--for her to stay in the home she shared with her mother. We're working on finding help with money from the government and other public and private agencies. The compassion won't be a problem as long as my father is alive. His wife, however, takes every opportunity to remind her handicapped sister-in-law that it is not the grace of god for which Robin should pray.
*****
Hot Vinyasa yoga class this afternoon. Strenuous. Good. The end of the class, face, belly and palms to the ceiling, damp with sweat, "I think I'm going to cry." Saw a play, once, something about crying in downward dog "sometimes a breakdown is really a breakthrough." Thought to hide my eyes below my towel. Room full of people, all of them face, belly, palms to the ceiling, damp with sweat. Teacher's voice low, sweet, "focus on your third eye." Crying silently, wondered what my face looks like from above, corners of mouth downturned, eyes squinched closed, tears falling down the sides of my face into my ears. Gave myself permission only for a moment. Pull it together for final "Namastay," mat rolling, walk to car. Worked out six days this week. Five days last week. Five the week before. Have to remember to note in iTouch. I like the blue squares filling the blocks of days. Jolt from the cymbalta withdrawal. Wrong time to get off anti-depressant? Below therapeutic dose for months. Fibromyalgia. FDA-approved. Not pregnancy-approved. Will we ever get pregnant? Tears in my throat again. Workouts good for fibromyalgia and tears. Cardio Blast 6:15 AM. Tomorrow. Get up 5:30. Dress in gym clothes. Already laid out. Dogs out. Must find new home for Wally. Poor Wally. He's no Pixie. Little Pixie. Cold wet nose. Amber eyes. Velvet ears. Pets are good for fibromyalgia. And tears. Read Joyce tonight? Maybe too late. Homer's turn, anyway. Odyssey, Ulysses, Odyssey, Ulysses. Read about Leopold's shit. Funny. Obscene. Matt says no question it was obscene. Question is it gratuitous? Court case helped Lenny Bruce. Obscenity covered by 1st amendment. No other gods before me. No, free speech.
Monday, July 6, 2009
An imaginary conversation
B: Are those vitamins in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
Me: I AM happy to see you, but yes, I have vitamins in my pocket.
B: Wow, that's a lot of pills. How come they're in your pocket?
Me: Yeah, I know it's a lot. I don't know if they help or not, but I figure they aren't hurting, and I have been in less pain since I started taking them. Problem is the multi-vitamins make me puke if I take them on an empty stomach.
B: Didn't you eat breakfast?
Me: Yeah, but it was like 2 hours ago now.
B: That's still an empty stomach?
Me: Apparently... Hey, should I be taking prenatal vitamins if I'm only thinking about getting pregnant?
B: I have no idea. I thought those were for when you actually ARE pregnant.
Me: Yeah, me too. The acupuncturist gave me these when I asked for a refill. I didn't notice that they were prenatal until I got them home.
B: Maybe your acupuncturist knows something you don't.
Me: No, I'm not preggers, yet. But she knows that we're sorta kinda trying.
B: How do you sorta kinda try?
Me: Well, you know, I'm not taking the anti-baby pill every day any more. But we're not, like, tracking my ovulation or anything. So, we're not trying NOT to get pregnant, but we're not actively TRYING to get pregnant, either.
B: Oh, okay, I get it. Hey, wait, weren't you thinking of having that surgery on your eye this summer? You can't do that if you've got a bun in the oven, can you?
Me: No, I don't think I can. I haven't scheduled it yet. I think maybe I'll just schedule it and see what happens. They'll do a pregnancy test before they let me into surgery.
B: Shouldn't you plan it a little? I mean, isn't your husband going to get new orders in a little over a year?
Me: Yeah, he is. We might end up in Norfolk or Jacksonville, or possibly Hawaii. I guess we should plan it a bit. I mean, I don't want to be due to give birth at the same time that we're meant to move.
B: Weren't you going to try to take a trip to Israel before you report to the next duty station, too?
Me: Well, yeah, we talked about it.
B: Sounds to me like you should sit down with a calendar.
Me: Well, yeah. I guess. I'm afraid if I think about this whole thing too much I'll chicken out altogether.
Me: I AM happy to see you, but yes, I have vitamins in my pocket.
B: Wow, that's a lot of pills. How come they're in your pocket?
Me: Yeah, I know it's a lot. I don't know if they help or not, but I figure they aren't hurting, and I have been in less pain since I started taking them. Problem is the multi-vitamins make me puke if I take them on an empty stomach.
B: Didn't you eat breakfast?
Me: Yeah, but it was like 2 hours ago now.
B: That's still an empty stomach?
Me: Apparently... Hey, should I be taking prenatal vitamins if I'm only thinking about getting pregnant?
B: I have no idea. I thought those were for when you actually ARE pregnant.
Me: Yeah, me too. The acupuncturist gave me these when I asked for a refill. I didn't notice that they were prenatal until I got them home.
B: Maybe your acupuncturist knows something you don't.
Me: No, I'm not preggers, yet. But she knows that we're sorta kinda trying.
B: How do you sorta kinda try?
Me: Well, you know, I'm not taking the anti-baby pill every day any more. But we're not, like, tracking my ovulation or anything. So, we're not trying NOT to get pregnant, but we're not actively TRYING to get pregnant, either.
B: Oh, okay, I get it. Hey, wait, weren't you thinking of having that surgery on your eye this summer? You can't do that if you've got a bun in the oven, can you?
Me: No, I don't think I can. I haven't scheduled it yet. I think maybe I'll just schedule it and see what happens. They'll do a pregnancy test before they let me into surgery.
B: Shouldn't you plan it a little? I mean, isn't your husband going to get new orders in a little over a year?
Me: Yeah, he is. We might end up in Norfolk or Jacksonville, or possibly Hawaii. I guess we should plan it a bit. I mean, I don't want to be due to give birth at the same time that we're meant to move.
B: Weren't you going to try to take a trip to Israel before you report to the next duty station, too?
Me: Well, yeah, we talked about it.
B: Sounds to me like you should sit down with a calendar.
Me: Well, yeah. I guess. I'm afraid if I think about this whole thing too much I'll chicken out altogether.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Things that are satisfying
In no particular order:
1. forcing a pimple to give up its disgusting prize.
2. going to make coffee in the office and finding it's already done.
3. peeling a banana.
4. accelerating up to 6th gear on open road.
5. interpreting a bit of Torah and then reading a respected exegete who read it the same way.
6. throwing a strike in bowling.
7. plucking eyebrows.
8. chocolate.
9. comparing myself to Sei Shonagon by making a list.
10. eating a really sweet cherry.
11. water when you're thirsty.
12. receiving the results of a marketing campaign that has made money.
13. finishing a workout.
14. waking up anxious, but realizing there are several hours left before it's time to get up.
15. the sound of a golf-ball falling into the hole.
16. climbing into clean sheets.
1. forcing a pimple to give up its disgusting prize.
2. going to make coffee in the office and finding it's already done.
3. peeling a banana.
4. accelerating up to 6th gear on open road.
5. interpreting a bit of Torah and then reading a respected exegete who read it the same way.
6. throwing a strike in bowling.
7. plucking eyebrows.
8. chocolate.
9. comparing myself to Sei Shonagon by making a list.
10. eating a really sweet cherry.
11. water when you're thirsty.
12. receiving the results of a marketing campaign that has made money.
13. finishing a workout.
14. waking up anxious, but realizing there are several hours left before it's time to get up.
15. the sound of a golf-ball falling into the hole.
16. climbing into clean sheets.
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