повторенье – мать ученья

The animals, the animals
Trapped, trapped, trapped 'till the cage is full
The cage is full
Stay awake
In the dark, count mistakes
The light was off but now it's on
Searching the ground for a bitter song
The sun is out, the day is new
And everyone is waiting, waiting on you
And you've got time

I've been watching Orange is the New Black all day. Consuming it really. And laughing. And crying. And thinking. Lots of thinking.

I'm in such a weird place right now, and I'm so grateful to have you to support me while I muddle through it. I can't even articulate how much all of your text messages help me, especially when they are about trivial things.

I know I seem like I obsess less than you, but really I think I obsess more, I just do it silently. You always help break up my thoughts, give me time to gain perspective before I fall back into the abyss of my mind. It's a marvelous gift, really.

I don't know that I'm any better off than I was yesterday, but the place I'm in seems less abysmal and more mine. That feels like progress.

I've been trying to crochet on and off for a couple of days now. My problem is that when practicing single crochet, which is the only thing I've managed to even sort-of learn, my rows get shorter and shorter every time. This is baffling to me. When I was learning to knit, I had the opposite problem, my rows always got longer. This shrinking vexes me. In addition, some of my stitches are clearly all twisted up and generally incorrect (these muddled stitches only add to the shortening problem, intensifying my disdain). I am unsure how to rectify this at this juncture, but I think about it constantly, and am continually crocheting (rather poorly, but crocheting nonetheless) and unraveling the same four inch square of fabric.

повторенье – мать ученья, as the proverb goes.

Think of all the roads
Think of all their crossings
Taking steps is easy
Standing still is hard
Remember all their faces
Remember all their voices
Everything is different
The second time around



In other news, Regina Spektor's voice always feels like a warm blanket. I want to wrap myself in it, all the days.

Song of the Day

Better.

Feeling much better today. Not back to normal better, but distinctly less bad.

I had a long chat with Dad last night, and another this morning, both of which helped immensely with my stress related issues.

Writing here, and on your space helped with my other issues.

The fact that the week is over, and that I've completed the last of my double days is also a huge relief.

I've got a long weekend of hiking ahead of me, something I'm very excited for. I'm hoping the outside places flush what's left of the turmoil out of my bones. I promise to take lots of pictures for you.

I'll upload the monsoon videos for you tonight. Pinky promise.

All my love.

Time.

This time today, two years ago, we were packing your bags as a monsoon storm raged around us.

I should never have packed up those boxes.
I should have stood firm in the doorway and refused to let you go.
I carry more guilt over that than I should.
It wasn't my fault any more than it was yours.
What else would we have done?
When there were no good solutions?
Or even, any solutions at all...
It was a room with no windows and only one door.
But when I think back on it I somehow manage to almost convince myself that there were other options.

I am extra lost today.
In the middle of some sort of life-crisis that I am unable to resolve.
Panic-y and crying.
Wishing things were different.
All sorts of things.
Most of my life, really.
But also, not.

I'm not unhappy,
I'm just in transition.
And transitions are always hard for me.

And by hard, I mean that they feel as if they are impossible to survive. And yet, I always do.

I talked with my dad for a long time today. He made me feel somewhat better, but there's a bitter knot of anxiety eating a hole in me that nothing will be able to fill for today.

I am mourning your departure more than I need to, in part because it allows me to mourn for something without having to dwell on the transition I'm in the middle of. Or at least I think that's what's going on.

That or it's all just hormones running amok.

I don't know.
I don't know anything definitively today.
I'm lost in thought, but don't have enough information yet to come to any conclusions.

I've been reading In The First Circle on and off, which makes me feel better and worse simultaneously. And also desperately trying to master the art of crochet. I'm doing something wrong. I'm making the same mistake continuously I'm sure. But I think my spirit may be a little too broken today for much learning to take place. Perhaps that's the root of my problem.

In other news, Laurids, my dino bichir is getting big. He was such a little thing for so long. When I looked at him today I was shocked to see how big he is now. He will need to be moved to the larger tank soon.

Emery is back, and depressed at her lack of access to the outside places, as well as the loss of the pool to swim in at her leisure. Oscar seems pleased with his new haircut, uneven as it may be. Mittens is just pleased not to have been confined to the kennel all day.

I desperately need a bath...and possibly a lobotomy. ;)

I miss your face.

Double-double-what!

Mleh, I say! Mleh.

With three weeks of double shifts behind me, (and all the construction to boot!) it's safe to say I've abandoned any semblance of adulthood, and reverted to my natural, bear-like state.

I should take the time to say that they aren't true double shifts, not in the eight hours at one, then eight hours at the other sense of the word. Instead they're sort of a hodgepodge of do all the work twice in as little time as possible-ness and endless driving. Which makes them, time-wise, more like a shift and a half, or a shift and a quarter, only with a million times the physical/mental exertion.

I love stress. I really do. I function really well when I'm challenged. My optimum function level is just a hair below the this-is-way-too-much stress trigger line. What this means is that I'm a machine when loaded with work...right up until I'm not. And then it's all over.

Yesterday was apparently the day my energy stores topped out. I just woke up totally out of spoons.

I could feel it coming on the night before. The sickly, you're-about-to-lose-your-shit feeling welling up inside of me. My reluctance to return home was a massive red flag. The fact that my toilet was leaking when I returned home may very well have been the final straw. Someone had been there to look at it, but now there was just a rag tied around the leaky pipe and a baseball cap on the counter.

All I know is I went to bed and woke up yesterday a thoroughly broken person. I was angry. Just horribly disgruntled, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I felt miserable on top of that. My back hurt and my ankle was all puffed up, that ever growing cyst staring back at me. The cats refused to be wrangled in the morning. I didn't have time to eat. I didn't get to finish my coffee. By the time R showed up to work I was pacing around, trying and failing to get things done.

There was just so much to do.

More than that, I wasn't able to do any of it. Some of it due to lack of time, some a lot of it due to not having the information or the power to get things done. All sorts of little things mocked me. I descended into the bowels of the sneaky hate spiral. R tried his damnedest to help me, but really, I was just beyond help.

It was a tire fire. Sometimes you just have to let it burn.

I left for the other hospital and called my dad. I cried and yelled and railed long against the night. So many things were unjust or unfair or just plain wrong and I couldn't stand it. None of the things that were wrong were fixable, and I HATE when problems don't have solutions. All problems should have solutions. Simple, straight forward, easily implementable solutions. I should clearly have power over all things, and all things should work they way I want them to. I dislike that they don't. Some days that's harder to deal with than others.

By the time I arrived to job number two I was feeling...not better per-say, but more like I could hold it together -so long as no one asked me what was the matter or tired to talk to me- than I did when I left.

They day went along alright. I was angry, but not altogether unpleasant. I smiled, or at least I tried to, and chatted with other people, albeit, much less than I normally might have. Things went along pretty well until Boss Lady came in. I love the Boss Lady, and damn it, I just want to spill my guts out to her all the time. I am a complicated monster, and I make so little sense to so many people, but Boss Lady just gets it. Even when she doesn't. Much like my dad. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult for me to refrain from spilling my guts out when we get time alone. I subsequently gave her the brief run down of things I was angry about, which for the record, was all things. It did not make me feel better. Mostly it just reminded me that I was in fact, angry and that there was a long list of things I was angry about. It also may have stressed Boss Lady out a bit, I'm not sure. I knew better, but it couldn't be stopped.

I was exhausted. Hungry. In pain. Frustrated. All sorts of things. And no matter what I did, it was spilling out all over the place.

I left job two to head back to job one and finish up my work. R was a saint, and had done most of it for me while I was away. He made me feel slightly better, only because he noted that I looked exhausted, and for the most part, didn't poke at me.

I went home that night to find my goldfish were dead. As I flushed my little fish friends, I noticed rag and cap were still in the bathroom. This was just the last straw. I called the office in tears. I was calm and polite, but the anger and frustration was still evident in my voice no matter how kindly I spoke. the woman told me the issue had been resolved the day before. I told her there was a rag tied around the pipe, and someone had left their hat here, and for the past four weeks I had put up with an insufferable amount of construction and people I don't know crawling around my apartment, tearing up my walls and touching my stuff and I was really REALLY tired, and I just wanted my house back. She was very kind, and said she would make sure everyone was out of my place the following day.

I promptly passed out.

I woke up today feeling better, but still not right. I hurt more than the day before, and my mood was still low, but things got done today, which was victory.

I worked all day and then I picked up my sweet dog, who I have missed more than I can describe. I hung out with my dad for a while, and came home. As promised, the construction is finished on my apartment, and I can make it mine again.

I tried to shave Oscar, but it turns out that he has far more hair than even I had anticipated. His hair is much shorter, but he is by no means, shaved.

I meant to put my house back together today, but I thought, mleh. Instead I'm going to sit on the couch. I meant to go grocery shopping, but I decided I can live on ramen and fish sticks for another week. I was going to put the laundry away, but I decided it was easier not to. I was going to do the dishes, but realized it required standing, and moving my limbs. I was going to read more Solzhenitsyn, but I decided the book was too far away, and full of too many words.

Instead I've been sitting around in my unds, eating fish sticks, and not doing anything of import. I sat down to write this note to you, and it's turned into a novel again, somehow, and I lack the energy to finish it now. Lol.

I guess that's the way of things. I'm hoping tomorrow I wake up with more spoons. I'm hoping my sunny disposition is back. I'm hoping I can drink enough coffee to power me through these last two days of doubles. And I'm hoping I pass out as soon as I publish this.

I have more to say, but not enough time or energy to type it out. Plus, this is more than long enough already.

I miss you terribly Dear Friend, as always.
Come visit me soon.

All my love,
LittleFoot.

Monsoon Season...

...is officially upon us.

I'm so sorry for the sporadic nature of my posts, Dear Friend. Things here have been chaos. I've been working shifts at both hospitals every day, and the construction at my house continues. I'm exhausted and I miss my dog terribly.

I had a really good day at work today, but my good mood started to run out towards the ends. I left work to drive home, but instead headed the opposite way, out into the mountains. I was hoping the drive would ease my mind.

I considered, briefly, stopping to buy some water and just hiking until my legs gave out. But scrubs are poor hiking attire. Also, the horizon was filled with monsoon clouds. Instead I just drove. Initially I had just planned to drive out a little ways and get a decent picture of the Superstitions. This plan, however, was hampered by billions of low hanging telephone wires and trailer homes. Eventually I abandoned that plan.

I drove out to Peralta Trail and meandered around. It was stunning. The sun was streaming through the last of the puffy clouds, and the monsoons were starting to roll in from the south. I stopped periodically to take pictures. There are these marvelous hanging chain cholla trees out that way, and as I am currently enamored with them, I figured they would make me feel better. It both did and didn't.

I'm just surrounded with a sense of unease these days. I'm pretty sure it's a result of the construction in my house. I really dislike having people in my home, particularly people I don't know. The fact that they're in there when I'm not doesn't help. Neither does the on going complications and continuous delays. Additionally, the majority of my things are packed up at the moment, and so it doesn't even feel like home right now.

At some point I realized that the monsoon storms were nearly upon me. I was miles out on a dirt road, one littered with washes, still muddy from the last big storm, in my tiny little Mazda. Not exactly a great place to be on a beautiful July day in the desert. I turned around and headed back.

The storm was just ahead of me now, and dumping rain on the desert. I hit the wind and sand just as soon as I made it back to the freeway. All the overheads warned of low visibility. As I made my way back into East Mesa the rain started. Thick, heavy drops. Between the wind, the dust, and the rain it was very difficult to see. As usual, the roads immediately began flooding slightly. I made my way out of the storm, only to find that there were two more in between where I was and home. Each storm was more intense than the last. The final one was nearly impossible to drive through. I was going less than 20 mph on the freeway, visibility was less than 20 ft, and the wind was gale-force at just over 60 mph. I got stuck in a really intense downburst just shy of Mill, and torrential rain. I can't even remember the last time I saw rain like that. Apparently this storm just tore everything apart, the radio was reporting 5,000 homes would be without power until at least midnight. Yikes! It was the kind of storm I know you would have appreciated. It was beautiful and destructive, and made everything smell like wet desert and asphalt.

I made it home to find that I still had power, but the new leak issue had not been resolved today. They had clearly been working on it, as there was an additional towel on the floor, one that did not belong to me, (as well as some tools and a baseball cap) but nothing to indicate when the work might be finished. Additionally, the fish tank in my bedroom was uncovered, which concerns me. Although the most reasonable explanation is that the sheet simply slipped off of it, as it is prone to doing, in my mind I'm at least partially convinced that people were going through my house and touching my stuff.

And that, Dear Friend, THAT is all I know.

I'm exhausted, and I'm falling asleep even as I type this.
I hope things are well up there in the land of trees and fog.
I hope that you're missing the monsoons at least a little.
And I'm hoping that the glory that is this desert life, will draw you home again.
Give Phil my love.
<3

Song of the Day