Me and Them. A continuing thought.
Well, my punk-trip-hop weirdness continues. I can’t really listen to soul if I’m going to come back to life. It’s too mellow. I need to be in fighting mode. Hard to do when you get as little sleep as I do.
I can say I’m gathering my mavericks together to rile, inspire, and rustle me up into some livable state of mind. What the hell have I turned into? A shade of pale I don’t recognize. I read somewhere that if you want to feel powerful, you have to believe you’re effective in some small form. God knows I’m not effective in this place, other than to make money for other people, so I’ve got to start the good fight in other areas of my life. Could this possibly translate?
The weekends of sleeping waaaay too late have to end. I have to wake up LITERALLY and see what the hell I can do. I’m looking for signs, kiddies. Anything to tell me I’m on the right track. It’s the only way. I glean no clues from the soft complacency of my bedsheets. I remember nothing useful other than a few laughs from those who are no longer in my life. They failed, quit, gave up. I will not. I cannot. I refuse.
What is it….I’m trapped in a job I hate, but I realize I’m also trapped in a body I hate, too. Or should I say “has come to hate me?” Fibromyalgia’s got an emotional connection—at least some researchers believe that—and I have certainly been all over the place emotionally in the last few years. Am I noticing that I have to slow down because I spent so many years on Warp 5? And, is my massive weight gain a contributing cause or is fibro a result? What if I decided to hone my body as much as I’ve worked on my thoughts? My words? What would I have to do….more than a diet. Body/mind stuff is definitely outta whack with me lately. Really and truly. Or I wouldn’t feel like this.
"But my critics are my critics, and I can't change anyone's mind about me except my own...But for now, my critics can eat it." One of Johnny’s better quotes. I love him. Completely. And I understand what he means, too.
What if I am my own critic? What if I just need to get out of my own way?
Oh god, where do I begin…
At least I’ll only be a palindrome for one more week. 34= 3+4, which is seven. A good number. Preceded by a lunar eclipse, the kind feared by many.
Let’s see what happens.
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