Mutt and Jeff

This coming weekend we are likely (depending on my father) getting two new cats, Mutt and Jeff. I find their names ironic, as they are very similar looks-wise - fat, siamese/orange tabby mixes. Both are declawed. Really, it should be Jeff & Jeff, as they are as alike that tubby, round fellow as they could possibly be.

Us on the way to the cat food store, apparently.

These new members of the family I am happy to take in, but it is with a heavy heart. My aunt, my father's oldest sister, will be passing soon. Meeting her again in later life (I hadn't seen her since my Far-Far's memorial, when I was about 16, due to family estrangements) has been extremely fulfilling, as I now understand a lot more about myself simply by listening to her. She is a spitfire, who stands on her beliefs and morals with two feet, but is still willing to listen. She doesn't like to talk about others, but if she does, it's nothing she wouldn't say to their face. Losing her will feel like losing a part of myself, and the regrets that come will be of not reconnecting sooner, of not being able to enjoy this woman, her stories, her opinions and her jokes, for longer than the brief period we've been able to snag.

I'm starting to realize that I'm losing my grandparents. I didn't know two of my grandparents - they'd passed on before I could, one before I was born, one before I was 1. My mother's mom passed when I was 6, and is the one I relate to the most. We often become our mothers if we leave nature to its business, but I remind my mother of her mother more often than not. My Far-Far, like I said, passed when I was 16, but he was not a good man, from my understanding. My parents have said he tried to kick us out into the cold in the middle of winter because my parents were separating (I was 9), and since then until the Saturday before he passed, I saw him only once behind my father's back. All I remember of him was his playing blackjack with me with pennies. I'd be so excited to go home with a mittful (likely about $1) and dreaming of the penny candies I'd buy the next day. He'd collect the pennies weekly and make sure I got them all before the end of the night. I have no recollection of him being mean, cruel or petty, but apparently he was. But not to me, and I will leave it at that.

Losing my Uncle Buck last year, who was effectively my grandfather for most of my life, has been hard. To this day I still cry when I hear his laugh in my head, or see something he would have enjoyed. I have many of his things, knickknacks he built a story around that was likely only 20% true and 80% complete and utter magic, and they bring me comfort.

Considering that, I'm excited about Mutt and Jeff. The history here is that we offered to take them in when I heard that they were likely going to be put down when she passed. Not in my world, thanks - offering to take them in gave her a lot of relief, but it came about that her daughter decided they wanted them, as the kids enjoyed them. That was fine with me, as long as they weren't put down. Cats at 8 years old are just getting started, and these two deserved more than that. But then we went to see her a couple of weeks ago, and I brought my husband along. Boy o boy did they LOVE him - and vice versa - and her seeing the cats take to us and us take to the cats made her realize that she wanted them to come to us, and that to me is the greatest compliment I could ever receive. It's akin to someone wanting their child to go to you if they pass on - this is their most precious possession, and bestowing it to you is a gift to both of you at the same time.

Ted (my youngest cat) is only 5, and very rambunctious, not to mention smart. With only Mulan, our 16-year-old grand dame, to play with, he's been getting into a lot of trouble. Having these two around him should a) keep him entertained and b) get them exercising. They are tubby, and were declawed before even my aunt got them, so will need to keep his nails trimmed regularly. They remind me of Hedonism bot in a way, moving only when the sunbeam does, and refusing to hunt for even the smallest spider.

Just wait until the 'nip hits.

Don't get me wrong, we don't take on animals willy-nilly or without due consideration. With 2 dogs and 2 cats at home, it's always a concern about who will get along with who, and ensuring you can give them appropriate care. But these two are pretty easy going, and the diet we're putting them on should fix a lot of health issues they have. I find that our menagerie tends to take on our own personalities, which means lots of snuggling, playfulness and relaxation. I've never had a group of animals of my own that has had problems with each other - they tend to bond pretty fast. I'm pretty sure this will happen again with these two.

I'm looking forward to getting to know them better, and see them grow. I'm glad I have something to hold onto when she goes that reminds me of her. And I'm glad that, at the end of her day, I was able to do something to give her peace, to hold a little space for her beyond, and let her feel that she was cared for.

Gentle, gentle

Sometimes I just want to run away. To chase a place that is silent, that is gentle. Gentle - that word is my mantra in a world of chaos and heartache. We are not gentle with each other. We are not kind with our words. We rush to judgement, to slot someone into a predetermined place in our minds so we can forget them and carry on with no changes.

I don't fit into a slot, I never have. I am a contrast of so many things - half my mother, half my father. Half my brother, half my sister. Oldest, middle and youngest child at the same time. Open-hearted and introverted. Crazy desire to help the world, but would prefer to be left alone. I have never fit a stereotype or trend, and I tell ya, I really wanted to as a young adult. Being different was a giant pain in the ass when all you wanted was a swatch watch and a binder that didn't have logos of my dad's job because he stole them from work for my schooling.

These days, there's tons of quotes out there about 'don't conform' and 'you weren't mean't to fit in, you were meant to stand out'. They were there when I was younger, too.

Yeah, this bullshit.

Know what's terrifying for a kid trying to find her place in the world when her parents have split, her siblings have scattered and who is an anxious, epileptic, rejection-fearing stress-pot? Standing out. My entire life has been about trying to NOT be noticed. I don't like attention. Attention means more people notice you when you fuck up, which I tended to do a lot. I learned to be afraid to try, because if I didn't get it in the first go, it must mean I suck. Rejection is a hell of a slap when you finally work up the courage to get out there and actually fucking try.

Let me get a little medical on you and show you what it's like when your brain is on anxiety.

Your brain on stress.

So, did you get that? Our brains become soaked in dopamine and norepinepherine (that's a type of adrenaline, for you folks that might not know that), which shuts down our thinking brain.

To put it a little clearer, here:

My brain on stress.

Now, you're all going to go on about 'we shouldn't give out participation awards' blah blah blah, and I agree. But I'm starting to realize how traumatized I've been by the world simply by trying to live in it and conform to its standards. I am striking, but not conventionally beautiful. I am smart, but not genius. I am funny, but not hilarious. If I try to stand out, it's just about how mediocre I am... who wants to draw attention to that?

When did we become so quick to push away others? When did we start rejecting anything different? I'm sure it was ages ago, but society today really seems to amplify it. Everything is about division, about us vs. them. Seems to me everyone is just looking for something to stand up for, but there's so much wrong that we can't get a handle on one thing. Our identities are becoming lists, like Pro-Choice-Liberal-Eco-Friendly-Vegan Joe, vs. Pro-Life-Conservative-Humvee-driving Mike. We focus on our differences rather than our similarities, when one difference can separate us forever. Joe and Mike might both be hiking enthusiasts. They might both be Catholics. They might both be accountants, or enjoy beer, or be basketball fans. But they'll never know because of their differences.

I'm learning to find people who don't expect anything of me. There is a certain freedom that comes from simply enjoying someone when the occasion arises. I'm sort of still reveling in it, while trying to take a moment to assimilate what's going on with me before the next shiny thing catches my attention and I'm back to my knee-jerk reactions of obsession and then apathy. I used to be all about the black or white, yes or no, up or down. Clear delineation helps stem the slowly seeping grey area that most mistakes are made in. But when you yourself are grey, how can you ever come to terms with yourself?

And not this grey bullshit. If this is what you're thinking, stop reading. Ever.

I think we were meant to embrace our differences, not that they are superior, simply different. Then we can learn to find ways to incorporate that difference into a relationship by embracing others' similarities. Complementary relationships are really rare these days, but they are truly beautiful.

And that's all I have to say about that. Instead, I'll leave you with this:

I burnt the list.

So, it's been awhile, huh? Remember when I said I was going to burn the list last Monday? Well, I did it, and it was amazingly liberating... then the next morning I promptly tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle down the stairs. Then the dogs had a battle. Then things got REALLY sore about Wednesday. So yeah, kinda been dealing with that. Why am I telling you all this? You don't care. Am I justifying why I didn't post in the last week? Pffft, meh. PPbbbbtttt. Other noises...

That noise isn't coming from the front end...

OK, so let's get back to the list burning. It was actually incredible. I began by meditating, and seeing how things occurred in my head when I didn't have a set list of 'shoulds' weighing me down. Know what? My energy returned! I felt like a world was taken off my shoulders. I didn't realize how much obligation, even the idea of it, drained me. I also had an easier time thinking, I slept like a log, and I didn't have that sick burning-pit-of-the-stomach feeling at the thought of going outside.  Before, I felt like everyone knew how much of a failure I was in my own mind, like they could SEE it on me as soon as I was out the door, and then would tell others about it.

It's weird how anxiety makes you become totally self-obsessed, when all you truly want is to be ignored. No one gives a shit what I did and didn't do, all that is in my head. I know this. I post bullshit pics of "don't care what others think" memes on my FB wall all the time. I tell others how awesome they are, because I worry they go through the same bullshit self-defeating attitude I do and need a boost. I know that what that girl behind me on the bus is laughing about has nothing to do with me. But as soon as I hear it, my first thought is "OMG, what did I do? Is my underwear showing? Do I look fat? Do I have a bogie in my nose? A zit? WHAT?" The obsession spirals until I am so sweaty and uncomfortable that I just want to go home and cry. Meanwhile, the girls were probably giggling at a cat picture.

This is my secret identity... crap, I wasn't supposed to say that, was I?

But in this meditation, I could see myself reacting to what's in front of me, rather than being lost in a forest of obligations. I dropped things that had been on there for YEARS. I got motivation to do things I hadn't done in months, like clean. Like play with the dogs. Like read something other than garbage romance novels...

 Damn you Book Bub!

So what did I do with all this new motivation? I got knocked over by a dog doing the pee-pee dance, and ping-pong'd my way down the stairs. Finnick didn't even care... he still had to pee. He just looked at me like 'WTF you doing down there... I GOTS TA GO!'

Journal insight of the day: my life revolves around making sure this guy doesn't pee all over the house. How's that for a life accomplishment?

So I spent my newfound motivation playing a 20-year-old video game for a week because I hate TV and reading is hard when the pages keep getting covered in drool from the muscle relaxants... On the plus side, I realized the game wasn't as terrifying as it was when I was 23. On the (subtract?) side, it still kicked my ass when it came to the Marlboros.

I feel like it needs to say "Stop hitting yourself" in Nelson Muntz's voice.

So, where does all this leave me? Same place as before, but with a little more insight. Really, I think that's the most we can expect from any type of experiment. And that's just fine.

Burn the list.

I have a continual list of things that need doing in my mind. It includes things like doing the dishes, cleaning the bathrooms, etc., but it also includes things that have been on there for years, like write novel, lose weight and buy new clothes... I've found, however, that this is absolutely crippling. What a way to feel like you've gotten nothing done. Like, ever.

My current process

As you may have noticed in a previous blog, I said today I would get up at 5:45. However, I didn't get the sunroom cleaned up, I didn't get to bed on time, and while I tried to make my oats the night before, I literally melted the copper bottom off the pot I was boiling water in. Helps if you actually remember what you are doing when doing it, I suppose. Live and learn, amirite?

Having a list makes you focus on the things that you didn't do, rather than the things that you did do, unfortunately. I have become so wholly overwhelmed by the 40 things still remaining, rather than congratulating myself on the fact that I got out of my own head long enough to change the cat litter. Trust me, that one thing is more important than 95% of the other stuff on there (especially to the cats), and yet that one tick mark gets lost among the 'pay credit card bill' and 'fold laundry' that regularly take up space.

I have been a lister my whole life. I make lists for Steve, for my dog, for my job and for my studies (both formal and informal). Is it ironic that I just made a list of lists? (Answer: no. Go back to school!) But I'm starting to think I should burn the lists and start from scratch. Don't add the crap that doesn't matter, and litter it with things like 'drink tea' and 'have a kitty cuddle session'. 'Take dog for walk' and 'scratch nose'. 'Have bubble bath' and 'wear pajamas'.

I've done this. Because I am a fucking genius.

I won't even go into how much the idea of burning my ongoing to-do list terrifies the shit out of me. It's like cutting off the chain to the anchor and dropping it. It's like ripping the wings off a dragonfly and then throwing it off a 20-story building. My lists are like programming and my brain doesn't know what to do without them...

So I'm going to do a meditation tonight. I am going to spend 20 minutes imagining what it would be like to simply go through life taking care of what presents itself, and not worrying about the 'shoulds'. I will force myself to face that lightning bolt of dread that courses through my chest and settles in my stomach. I will review it, roll it around in my hands, look at it from all angles. What's the best outcome? What's the worst outcome? What's the likeliest outcome?

Then I will take a deep breath in, until it's this side of painful, and then take a little more. I will hold that breath, infusing it with my fears, until my scalp tingles. I will hold it, until I can feel it spreading into my bronchial tubes, overcoming and absorbing the stale air that's filled with chaos and angst and rage. Then I will release, slowly, and feel myself deflate. Feel my muscles release. Feel my heart find level ground. Feel my head's thrum lessen and a lightness come into me. Then I will do it again. And again. Until the bitch in my head shuts up and the little girl can get a word in edgewise.

I hope I will find freedom in releasing my shoulds. I suspect that 99% of what's on that list is shit that doesn't even matter in a small scheme of things, let alone a big one. Then I may start a new one. I will include things like 'hug Steve' and 'take a nap'. I will focus on what's in front of me, not what is behind me. I will not give face time to things that don't matter, that won't either a) bring me happiness or b) bring me peace.

Wish me luck. If I come in tomorrow looking like Doc Brown, you'll know why.

Yawp

“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” 
- Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night

Kurt Vonnegut is my Shakespeare. I think it will be decades, if not centuries, before we fully explore his wit, nuances and subtleties to a point where we can honestly say we understand him. He was a rare man, who could be savage, visceral and yet gently humorous at the same time, and I am absolutely fascinated by him. He never shied away from the messiness that was the human experience, but rather embraced it, making literary mud pies that haunted my dreams for years.

He also might have been on to more than we yet realize...

This quote of his always strikes me as one of his best, and I wonder if he realized how much quantum physics backed up this statement. He probably did, and he also probably didn't give a shit.

No, I don't want to get into the philosophical quagmire that is the question, "What is real?" You couldn't pay me enough to get into that, and there are MUCH more intelligent people than me that have braved it and drowned. Like a nautilus shell, it simply spirals down until your brain becomes jelly and slowly oozes out your ear.

That being said, I don't think we're meant to understand the full concept of reality, at least not at this time. As physical beings, we are limited by meat, by organs, by viscous fluids and neural synapes - computers can only work as well as their components, and our components are not cutting edge, by any means. Is being a physical being an amazing, enlightening journey? Absolutely. But are we any further along to understanding our world than we were when we played peek-a-boo as a kid? Not at all.

Motherfucker, how the hell did you do that? 

So if this is the case, why do we focus on it so much? The unknown has fascinated us since we were able to bipedal our way across the Olduvai Gorge just to see what was going on over there. We are obsessed with learning 'what it all means' and what's around the next corner, that the concept of who we are now completely eludes us. There are a million books out there on how to be mindful and the benefits of such. I don't think anyone questions that being in the present moment would alleviate a lot of the stupid shit we get ourselves into when leaving our brains to their own devices. So why is it so hard for us? Why does the steady march of time, which is only a basic concept that we've created so we can submit our billable hours, need to be faster, better, stronger? Whatever happened to massaging the moment, milking it for all we can before moving on to the next experience? 

I think we're so far ahead of ourselves that our asses are moving faster than our heads. This concept comes up a lot in things like ethics and superhero movies.

We can, but Christ on a cracker, why??

The dramatic increase in anxiety, depression and general unhappiness in the world is directly related to this increase in reality, I think. We don't like to be alone with our thoughts. We leave the TV on for background noise, we play mindless games online, we do anything and everything to 'keep busy' rather than stopping to ask ourselves "Am I ok?" If we did, we're realize that we aren't, not by a long shot. And I hate to tell you this, but we're not supposed to be. We are lazy, complacent motherfuckers, and the only way we progress forward is by necessity. We will delay personal transformation until the last possible freaking moment and some people have even been known to prefer death to getting off their arses and making the changes that are needed to move forward. 

We've gotten into our heads that faster, bigger, and easier is better, but it's all distraction. We've gotten so high up on our technological advances that we've stopped trying to be better people. We have no idea how to connect to each other anymore. We spend more time pretending we are who want to be, and ignoring the awesomeness of who we actually are. How the hell is anyone supposed to know us, to connect with us when we can't even connect to ourselves?

We've relegated the important areas - arts, philosophy, kindness, silence - to soundbites we put on our Facebook walls against pictures of trees/oceans/skies, bury it in cat memes and then argue about how much we disagree with things other people are doing that have zero bearing on our own lives.

"Pick a fight elsewhere, asshole, we control the interwebs."

I invite every one of you to spend 20 minutes with your own thoughts. No music, no tv, no computer. Try to remember what you were like as a kid and think with that brain again. Reconnect to the time where you thought your bicycle was the coolest thing ever, when that Jem lunch box completed you, when the X-Men cartoon was the shit. When going to a park and running around like a maniac in your underwear was a perfect day. When getting licked on the face by your dog wasn't gross, it was awesome. When being held by your parent/grandparent/caregiver meant absolute peace.

Now think about your day today. What would it have been like to go through your day with the mindset of that kid? How much richer would your life and what you contribute to the world be, if you brought that mindset to your day-to-day tasks? 

Life is messy. We're not here to figure it out. If entropy has taught us anything, it's that neatly organized chaos is a waste of time. We're here to be passionate. We're here to fart and poop and run until our lungs explode. We're here to laugh, to cry, to scream. We're here to experience so much emotion that it feels like our skin will fly off if we can't release it into the universe. To sound our barbaric yawps over the roofs of the world (yes, I know that's Whitman, not Vonnegut, now stfu). I'm talking about embracing the world with no regrets, no expectations and no illusions. Be the person you want to be, and your world will become what you want it to be. Reality is an illusion, the only real thing is your thoughts, and the world you create with them. That is literally it. Craft your world into the snowglobe of your dreams, and let your heart take flight.

... Yawp.

Has anyone seen my jacket?

I'm starting to realize I have a strong fear of success. I've looked at all my fears over the last few years while doing shadow work, and I don't fear death, loneliness, infirmity or crisis, mostly because I've experienced them, or explored my feelings about them enough to become familiar with them. But I fear rejection, and I fear success. This leads to basically not trying - an apathy that is both comforting and confining, like a cozy strait jacket.

It's white and snug and has a cute belt!

I'm not sure why I have this fear... perhaps because then it begins to feel like competition and that stresses me right the fuck out. I don't want to compete. I don't want to win by creating hardship for others... what is the point of that? And even if you get to the top, you then have to fight to keep it? Fuck that noise, thank you very much. I've got better shit to do, like hug my dog and annoy my husband.

I've got a terrible relationship with stress - I was diagnosed with stress-induced epilepsy at age 9. My sister called me 'Space Jellyfish' and told me it was when the aliens were talking to me... it actually kind of pissed me off that I never remembered what they said.

This was also the picture beside the
word 'gullible' in the dictionary.

Stress makes me want to hide, it makes me avoid family, friends, or situations where someone may focus on me. I prefer to be invisible, an introvert - I actually kind of envy the old time hermits that would live in a 10'x10' cabin in the woods and talk to scat for company. Or a cave... a cave would do. I can share it with my dragons.

As life has a wicked, terrible, ironic and malicious sense of humour, I think my coping skills absolutely fucking suck as well, unless hyperventilating and throwing up is a positive result of facing something you don't want to... I'm pretty sure they aren't, though they're possibly healthier than some people's:

'Spirit guide' takes on a whole new meaning.

I've spent a long time exploring how my past has affected my day-to-day actions and reactions. Growing up in a stressful household made me hyper-vigilant (so, basically in a state of constant tension), made me breathe shallowly to be noticed less, made me have stomach issues and run the threat of an ulcer at age 17, given me horrific blood pressure and a relationship with food that, while delicious, is probably not the comfort I need. 

OK, great, so we now know what the issues are. Now what? That's what people never tell you. You go through this whole process of dissecting yourself, of examining your flaws, your fears, the things that strangle you to keep you in your comfort zone even when you're not trying to leave it. But then that's it... they don't tell you that, once you know all this, you now need to go through an agonizing growth process that hurts like hell and is more steps back than it is forward until eventually you come out the other side and realize that you've changed - so 5 years of struggle, angst and hardship for a 30-second 'huh, guess what' before moving on...  Perhaps I should have considered that before starting the process, but that picture above was also beside the word 'obtuse' in the dictionary... it was a pretty lazy dictionary.

We all search for the elusive 'a-ha' moment. That moment gives us the momentum and motivation to continue to grow despite the pain, but sometimes the pendulum swing isn't high enough and we just kind of end up on our hamster wheel, running hell bent for leather but getting nowhere. At that point we need to find the momentum in ourselves, and this is where I'm at, I think. 

I look back at myself 5 years ago, 10 years ago, and I was a very, VERY different person. I attribute my change to two things: finding people who embrace weirdness as much as I do, and being too exhausted to give a shit what people think anymore. I could get into how finding the people whose demons play well with mine means that I changed enough to attract what was healthier for me, blah blah blah, etc., etc., and so on, but who's got time for that? But we often forget that change is a gradual thing, usually imperceptible to the people experiencing it on a daily basis.

Well, I'm here to tell you you're changing, even without trying. Every decision gives you an insight you didn't have before. Every interaction gives you a perspective you hadn't considered. Everything you witness changes you - you can't be in society and remain the same, because it is an absolute clusterfuck of insanity that will drag you along in it's wake at the slightest opportunity. It will force-feed you reality, in all its horrifying, beautiful, crazy, confusing, magical and chaotic beauty until you gag, and if you don't digest it, you'll just choke and hide (because that was gross, and no one wants to be around you now). So the changes are there. But it's up to you to work with the momentum, pump your legs on the swing of experience, fly high to see the big picture, and make your choices to the best of your ability, consequences be damned.

And if you happen to see my jacket while you're up there, let me know. 

The Importance of Finishing Your Plate... and Silence

Lately I've been overwhelmed. This happens on occasion, and it's not necessarily a bad thing. I see it as a signal that I need to slow down, to deal with the crap currently on my plate rather than heading for seconds, or a different meal altogether. Unfortunately, at this point, I'm not wanting to deal with the yam of chores, the beets of self-reflection or the asparagus of premaking meals... I want to sit with the bubble gum of crappy romance novels, the eclair of Sims 3 and the cheesecake of binge-watching Castle... great, I forgot where I was going with this, and now I'm hungry.

Seeing your neuroses in your food is normal, right?

Let me explain a little further. In December I went to see a wonderful woman who is an Ayurvedic Wellness Counsellor. She had many great ideas, ones that I wholeheartedly want to incorporate into my life. Unfortunately, I also whole-assedly want to sleep until the last possible moment, eat bread and drink copious amounts of black tea with cream and sugar. Please note the difference in schedules:

Goal
5:45am	Wake up, do gassho and gratitude blessings.
5:50am	Take fenugreek seeds, shot of apple cider vinegar (don't inhale), make green tea, eat steel cut oats, wake up more.
6:15am	Get dressed, feed ravenous horde (cats)
6:40am	Go to work, drink tulsi tea throughout day, and water.
5:00pm	Get home, take out dogs to pee, do some chores, make lunch for next day.
5:30pm	Have dinner (finish by 6pm).
6:00pm	Work on business, muck about on FB, take out dogs again.
7:00pm	Turn electronics off. Meditate. Do small yoga for pancreas.
8:00pm	Read, listen to music.
8:45pm	Soak feet, then massage.
9:30pm	Go to bed.
Reality
5:45am	Doesn't even register.
5:50am	Steve (husband) shakes me to turn off alarm. I pull my arm from the cocoon and haphazardly slap around until it shuts up. Haha! Victory!
6:15am	Really? Wasn't it 5:45 like 2 seconds ago? Where's Stev...zzzzz
6:45am	CRAP I MISSED THE BUS
6:59am	Take fenugreek seeds with shot of apple cider vinegar. Forgot to not inhale, head explodes. Put head back on.
7:00am	Grab bus to work, with toothpaste stains on shirt and makeup smears. Forgot to brush hair and smell like mint and sour apple. Super.
8:00am	Arrive late, grab muffin and Tim's steeped tea (hello Dark Mother).
12:00pm	Buy lunch, as forgot to make at home last night.
5:00pm	Get home, take first dog out to pee.
5:02pm	Take second dog out to pee.
5:07pm	Take first dog out to pee again, as he needs to see what the second one did.
5:10pm	Dog heard noise outside, is going to asplode if doesn't check it out.
5:12pm	Tell dog to shut the fuck up, I’m not taking him out again.
5:15pm	Screw it, I'll do the dishes tomorrow.
6:00pm	Crap, forgot to eat dinner. We have pizza right? No? Cereal it is.
6:15pm	Watch TV while eating dinner and dicking around on FB.
7:00pm	Alarm goes off to meditate. Hit snooze for 10 mins.
7:10pm	OK, after this episode.
7:45pm	At least do the pancreas yoga pose.
7:46pm	Fuck that, that hurts!! Make mental note to make physical note to get thicker yoga mat. Again.
7:47pm	I'll meditate, that'll help.
8:00pm	Finally pick meditation music, get dogs settled, try to meditate.
8:05pm	Have to pee. Dammit.
8:15pm	Fuck it, can't concentrate.
8:16pm	Take dogs out to pee.
8:17pm	Go pee.
8:30pm	Take dogs out to pee.
8:40pm	Damn, I'm hungry.
8:45pm	Make foot bath with lavender and rosemary EOs. Dammit, out of lavender. Dammit, where'd my rosemary go?
8:50pm	Make cats stop drinking my foot bath. Turn on bubbles, laugh hysterically as they hit the ceiling. TOTALLY worth the mess.
9:10pm	Massage shins, calves and feet with oil. Try not to get the dog covered as he rolls around knocking over bottles of $28 essential oils.
9:30pm	Take dogs out to pee.
9:45pm	Shit, forgot to make lunch. Meh, I'll buy it tomorrow. I'll just finish this episode.
10:00pm	Don't even look at clock, watch another Castle episode.
11:00pm	One more episode won't kill me right?
12:00pm	*yawn* why am I so tired? Motherfucker! I'm gonna be tired tomorrow.
12:01am	Take dogs out to pee.

I keep trying to tell myself that there is valor in trying, that there is honour in the effort. Yeah, that's it. But in my mind I'm still telling myself that I'm not trying hard enough. The ennui I've been immersed in is drowning me - I'm having a hard time making myself care in the moment, to find the momentum to pull myself to a higher vibration and get shit done. So I try again. I don't want to do it all at once and doom myself to failure. I do manage to give myself the foot bath, and meditate. I am trying to eat healthier, and shockingly the tulsi tea tastes good to me. I feel like if I can do the 5:45am thing, the rest will be easier to fall into place, but damn, I sure enjoy sleep - it's one of the few times my joints and muscles don't hurt. Plus, it is infinitely harder to get out of bed when you have a horse of a dog curled up beside you, snoring away contentedly.

I think the other thing I need to do is uninstall Sims 3 from my computer. There is something so comforting about building the houses, creating the people and controlling every aspect of their day, though. I can't control my own life, but I can control the life and death and everything in between of these tiny pixels for hours upon hours... mostly because they HAVE to listen to me and I never fuckin' listen to myself. But frankly I think it's become unhealthy.

"Hi, Reality? Yeah, I'd like to cancel my subscription..."

So we have a plan, yes? Starting next week I'll start to get up at 5:45. Right now I'm operating on 3 hours of sleep per night, and I'm so overtired, I'm having hallucinations about things, like finishing a task at work and having lost weight. That CAN'T be good, right? I'll let you know how it goes... depending on what time I get up.

PS: I just reread this... This is what it's like in my brain... no wonder I like to sleep, it's the only time the damn thing shuts up.