Tag Archives: auto-pilot

Accidents will happen

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Dear blog,

Oh I went and did it again, didn’t I? I got all wrapped up IRL and ignored the 010011011011101s until those 01011010011101101s threatened me in the way only they can and I became overwhelmed.

This “getting overwhelmed” business parallels with so many other things in my life, so I’d like to say it’s a one-time thing, but I don’t want to lie.

  • I had gum surgery.
  • I finished level three.
  • I pulled my back
  • Troupon played and lost (by ONE vote!) Cagematch.
  • I started practicing with the IFL.
  • I had an impossible flat tire.
  • I got new boots.
  • My dad celebrated a birthday. (I’m always grateful for these.)
  • I fell down, really hard.
  • My A/C went out and had to be replaced. WHOA, that was expensive.
  • I ate curdled cereal on accident.
  • I drank a lot of champagne.
  • I had a weird run-in with a cop that might not actually be a cop, in plain clothes wearing a balaclava in 107 heat.
  • I started reading Game of Thrones.
  • I missed out on the level three showcase because of a handful of the above.
  • I start a new intensive this week with Jill Bernard.
  • I had coffee. Lots of coffee. Lots of coffee with interesting conversation.
  • I slept. A lot.
  • And then didn’t.  A lot.

 

All that is happening/happened. Some of it I’ll go into detail about. Most of it I won’t.

But I’ll be back soon, I swear it. Here’s a pretty picture. Forgive me?

IMG_1469

 

Love and watermelons,

Terry

DAZED AND OBTUSED

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So yeah. I totally should have realized today was going to be brought to me by the letters W-T-F when the lotion bottle I picked up after my shower this morning FLEW out of my hand and across the bathroom.

I left my phone at home. I left my sunglasses at home. I left the check I needed to deposit at home. I was running late to my dentist appointment (my teeth. my teeth. have I talked enough about my teeth?). There was wake-you-up pain at my dentist appointment. WAKE-YOU-UP pain.

On the way back to the office I saw that the road was clear to turn so I turned. From standstill to turning left on Lamar. Completely oblivious to the red light telling me NOT TO GO and the cop in the next lane. THAT JUST HAPPENED.

I contemplated the “run home quickly for the shit you forgot” strategy and then decided against it because I didn’t want to be late.

FOR THE MONDAY MORNING MEETING.

(It’s Thursday.)

*head/desk*

I really, really should go back to bed immediately.

I’ve got lyrics where the words go.

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I haven’t been sleeping well. I need to get out of my head and back to my regular-scheduled programming.

I want to talk about Arcade Fire tomorrow night and Jazz Fest in New Orleans in four days and the ways I’m trying to twist my brain around thoughts of content and strategy and other particularly interesting endeavors like making with the funny and little calculators that say when to go and when to stay really, really still.

But instead, I ramble and hem and haw. I’m scattered. Disconnected just a notch to the left of where I should be. My brain is misfiring and I’m forgetting things and dropping things. My words aren’t working. If my words don’t work, neither do I.

Even I can’t make myself listen…

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Everywhere I turn I see women craving change.

Talking about big cities and dreams and waxing ambition into poetry.

But we’re all still here.

Motionless.

What has to happen to force change? Why are we waiting for change to develop and leave us no choice but escape instead of creating doorways and buying tickets?

Why do we take a passive aggressive stance to the situations around us — manipulating the little keys that force the big lock?

I question these things right now, drinking coffee and reading other people’s journals knowing that if I wait a few hours, I’ll forget this little fire and justify another day of normalcy.

*******

I was talking in my sleep last night. B said I rolled over and said, “How boring for you.”
I didn’t realize I was talking to myself.

I dreamed of yard sales and getting busted. At the yard sale, everything looked tired and old and it was all of my own stuff I was rummaging through. All the remnants of my past — dusty and tired.

“How boring for you.”

How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you. How boring for you.

I should be writing about the ER and food poisoning….

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I’m sick of my life.

Before you get all tight panty’ed or panties in a wad — same difference, same stupid saying —

I’m not going to off myself.

There will be no Plath like demise — I’ve got an electric cooker, besides.
And pills leave your corpse bloated.

I’m afraid of guns and I don’t much care for the sight of blood.

So no drama filled way outs.

I’m not sick of living — I’m sick of the way I live my life.

As much as I’d like to pretend I’m the DRIVER IN THE SEAT OF MY OWN DESTINY —
I may as well be driving an immobile arcade car.

Please deposit 50 cents.

I’m not going anywhere.
I’m not moving anywhere.
I’m not getting anywhere.

My wheels are still.

For some reason, somewhere along the way, I became distracted by the course,
And other drivers.

And replaying the scene from the local mc d’s where all the old veterans swap war stories, my fellow vets sit around empty beer bottles sharing of stories of how it used to be and do you remember that one time….?

Always something on our proverbial life plates. We’re always planning. There’s always a degree to chase, a song to play out, a masterpiece to paint, a story to write…

Next time, the stories change a little, still nothing accomplished, but this time we’re discussing ways to rid ourselves of the self imposed blocks holding ourselves back and we know we know we KNOW we should be doing it right now but it’s too (enter any of the following excuses here)
Expensive
Time-consuming
Hard
Much to do alone
Complicated to explain

Or worse yet, the denial. Once we know why we’re not doing it, we seem to have this to say like a broken train —
I know I can I think I can I will someday I’m working on it, I have to, I think I can, I will I will!!! I WILL

Just as soon as I get around to it.

Pathetic.

And I’m the worst.

Surprised even that I got off my couch and wrote this.

I’m failing.

And I have to find a way to save myself before I’m done.

Virtually Speechless

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I don’t want to take the bus.
Car is at work.
Immmmensely gullitety (Is that a word? Well, I guess it is now technical speak for skipping class for a breather.)

I wonder if cabs in this area are stupidly expensive.
I wonder if I could walk it.

nah.

I know I can walk it, silly. I’m lazy. My body is in SloMo.

Damn I wish I could make SloMo scroll scross the screen in SloMo.

***hee hee she’s bringing the house down, folks!!*****

hehehahahahah…heh…hehe…he………..hem

Ok – I’m going for a walk now.

Mwah!

Auto-Pilot

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Another late night…

This one highlighted by ice cold bottles of Romulan Ale, pizza and Star Trek. Boy is on the couch and falling asleep to Coming to America.

***SEXUAL CHOCOLATE***

That’s the best part of that whole movie.

I have a weird non patience with movies I’ve already seen. I think if I could play it back somewhere between the normal speed and fast forward I could get through it with come semblance of patience.

I feel *much* better now.

I didn’t do one single solitary responsible thing today besides work and class.

The bills will have to get paid tomorrow.
Laundry isn’t going anywhere.
Phone calls haven’t been returned and I haven’t check the mail since Thursday.

Instead I read and played silly songs over and over. 4 String Therapy.

I surfed web sites and watched the ceiling fan.

I thought about not thinking about anything for at least the rest of today.

It’s been nice. Even better when Boy was sharing the space and we sat still amongst silence and kisses.

Tomorrow I will put myself back together. I’ll even start up my never ending to do list.

Now — I have date with a warm body dozing off on the couch.