June 6th 2008
I am finishing my thesis in the summer instead of the spring. Tomorrow I start day 139 out of 147 days — in the home stretch now. I’ve already written the epilogue, which is far from perfect, but at least it’s done.
I hate answering the question, “Why are your writing your book?” because sometimes, I don’t know. It is not a cathartic experience unless opening your femoral artery and bleeding nonstop is good for you. Give me the scab please so I can heal already.
AWW — XoXo
February 17th 2008
Pressure pushing down on me
Pressing down on you no man ask for
Under pressure - that burns a building
down
Splits a family in two
Puts people on streets
It’s the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming let me out
Pray tomorrow - gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets
Thank you Queen and David Bowie. I couldn’t have said it (or written it) better myself.
AWW — XoXo
February 4th 2008
The MRI was normal.
I hit someone on the freeway today because I was distracted — too deep in my own thoughts.
DAMN.
No one was hurt, but of course, I found the one person on the 101 with a brand new car. ARGH.
AWW — XoXo
February 1st 2008
Today I will find out the results from the MRI I had on Tuesday, which was an experience in and of itself. I felt like Hannibal Lecter trapped in a Salvador Dali nightmare. Did I mention it was an MRI of my brain? Anyway, I’m sure it will be “normal” and once again, the only known cause for my increasing migraines will be “stress.” ARGH.
When I’m not sleeping, I’m sleeping — even if I’m awake. I walk around half-dazed most of the time too stressed to pay much attention to the world around me. The only time I “wake up” is when I teach and when I volunteer (i.e. when I’m in charge). I probably should not be driving.
AWW — XoXo
January 15th 2008
My thesis is due two months from today. The impossible deadline looms over me like a Weeping Willow tree, only I cannot decide if I’m the tree with its leaves dragging, touching the ground drooping in sadness or if the deadline is the tree touching me saying wake up, get off your arse already, and just do it you eejit.
P.S. I’ve been reading Angela’s Ashes. Well-written but I don’t like it. The last time I looked forward to finishing a book this much was James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces. Since when did writers stop using quotation marks? Guess I’m a purist.
AWW — XoXo
January 10th 2008
I don’t usually write for 5.5 hours, but I did today. My goal is 1,500 words per day, and I can usually reach that within four hours, but I couldn’t find my way this morning. I was determined to meet my goal though. I’ll be damned if Mike Huckabee gets another marble!
As I wrap up the end of Adrienne’s third round of chemo in my memoir, I relive it and I discover things I didn’t know about myself and about her. That third round was the worst. I can only compare it to the California wildfires. Adrienne had so many things happening in her body at once — so many fires if you will — that the doctors didn’t know which ones to put out first, how the “fires” started, or how to put them out. The more medicine they pumped into Adrienne’s body, the worse she felt, and I couldn’t make her better.
Tomorrow I start Day 73, which means I’m halfway done with this monster, I mean, memoir. I’ve written 82,385 words so far (yes, I’m that anal); many more to go.
AWW — XoXo
September 2nd 2007
I don’t know what actual drowning feels like (well there was that one incident when I was a child but that’s not relevant here), but I know how I feel when the darkness pushes down on me. I feel heavy—to lift my legs is an effort. To get out of bed is an effort. To see people is an effort. Drowning in the depths of depression—so deep no amount of pills or therapy can help. The only cure is a the desire to escape so I start swimming my way back to the top even though I can’t see the surface of the water yet. I hate the vague murkiness; I want to see the clean water, the bright sun, the blue sky. But first, I must move my limbs and crawl through the darkness even though I cannot see where I am going. I have to trust myself that I can make it out alive.
July 27th 2007
That’s what one of my coworkers just said. “I believe toxic emotions cause cancer.” She wasn’t speaking to me; she was standing near my desk though. It took all the willpower I had not to jump out of my chair and say, “You’re wrong. Cells growing out of control cause cancer. If toxic emotions caused cancer, then every negative person in the world would be ill.”
A highly intelligent, older woman made that statement. I want to shake her and scream, “Toxic emotions didn’t kill my sister. Cancer did. Cancer caused by hepatitis.” I won’t touch her, of course — that would be assault.
I don’t know what is harder to deal with: the fact that my coworker believes what she said or that Adrienne believed the same thing.
July 25th 2007
Just once I want to know what it feels like to lie down, close my eyes, fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and then wake up feeling refreshed and rested — like the character in the children’s book Caps for Sale. I dread going to bed because I know I will lie there unable to turn off my brain.
Tonight in less than five minutes, these thoughts flooded my head: Will J.K. Rowling actually kill Harry Potter (Don’t tell me!)?; Maybe I should sum up the Howard letter (at work) by emphasizing his philanthropic interests instead of specific charities; God, my neck hurts from reading without moving for two hours; Will I finish Chapter 17 (in my memoir) this Saturday so I can email it to my mentor?; Are Winston’s hips (my beloved English Mastiff) still hurting tonight?; Corey sounds so peaceful when he sleeps; and I wish Little Bit (cat) would stop kneading my stomach because it already hurts.
I can’t turn it off without medication, which I hate to take. Sometimes I will swallow the dreaded pill — usually when I haven’t slept well for days. I just lie there and think. About everything. Then I pray to Adrienne like I do every night. Then I think some more. I hate these thoughts that won’t stop as they zip around, neverending since they seem to prefer a circular path. Help.