If I could only record these conversations I have with Ash. Quite entertaining and sometimes I’m unable to contain my laughter. This usually has her asking what’s so funny and when I reply “you” she giggles and says “I’m not a silly butt, I’m a smart ass!” Yeah. Luckily she’s made it quite easy this year and has requested books and clothes for her birthday and Christmas. More specific, underwear and pjs. Is this normal for a just-about-four-year-old? Sure, she’ll get other items, but when a forty-five minute conversation includes “don’t forget my pajamas” three times, how could I not find her some?

I do think this is the last Christmas that will include Santa, what with all the questions Ashleigh’s asked about him today. She was quite perturbed she could not leave one of her favorite foods, mashed potatoes or macaroni, though it was really the fact he wouldn’t eat his food quickly which upset her. When I explained, sure, we could leave those items instead of cookies but by the time he ate them they’d be cold and wouldn’t be as good, she only responded “but I eat my macaroni when it’s warm. That would waste it if Santa didn’t eat his”. So, we’re back to cookies except Ashleigh’s now thinking she’ll just watch. Oh, and if anyone has another reason for Santa to wear his hat besides keeping him head warm, please share. She’s apparently not satisfied with that answer.

My Charlie Brown tree is now up and decorated already, with only a few ornaments waiting underneath as Ash has requested she put those on once she arrives. I also have some white lights around the door and kitchen counter and now look forward to each evening. I’ve been passing the last few with the main lights off and white strings of lights on, and the Christmas tree lights sparkling on the ornaments and other decorations. The warmth and glow of the two rooms has me snuggling into a corner of my couch, reading, working on printed sudoku puzzles, and watching favorite movies or shows. The place is so small, but at times like this I don’t mind.

Earlier today I went for a walk, reluctant, but intent on enjoying the path all to my own. As expected, my usual route was empty, until I reached the somewhat hidden park I walk by each time. Frequently, I’ll take a moment to stretch, and if it’s a day with quite a bit on my mind, I tend to pause for a few minutes, resting on the small playground.

This late afternoon I decided to walk to the top of the hill before pausing and on my way down noticed a man sitting at the edge of the wood platform. His feet dangling, I followed his gaze toward the tiny creek on the other side of the grass. As I passed by I saw a Harley, tucked in and off the path. While I was contemplating how often someone rode their bike down the steep hill, a woman jogged up the path to the park and stopped by a picnic bench. After retying her shoes she jogged in place for a moment, then rested on top of the bench.

I considered heading home, as I was used to enjoying the park without company. Instead, I climbed the bright blue ladder to the top of the playground, and sat down on the opposite end from the man. He looked to be my age, perhaps in his younger twenties, as I’m not one for pinpointing ages very well. The women also seemed as young at first, with the glowing skin and fit body, but a few glances later I noticed her laugh lines and gathered late thirties, early forties.

During the silence in between my music I heard a faint sound which had been absent on my walks the recent few weeks. With the headphones then removed, I enjoyed one of my favorites, a number of frogs echoing from the creek waters. As I leaned my cheek against the cool metal bars, I smiled and tried to warm my nose, already cold in the brisk evening air.

For five or ten minutes the three of us remained on the fixtures, myself and the young man slowly swinging our legs. My silent companions seemed content, subtle smiles across their faces. Eventually I stopped looking at them and followed the small trickle of the creek until it went under the cement bridge I crossed earlier. Such a peaceful landscape, tucked below street level, surrounded by homes and paved roads. The Harley seemed out of place in the hidden grassy and child’s play areas, though I understood the need to enjoy, be engulfed.

Eventually the platform vibrated as the young man jumped off into the sand and walked to his bike. He zipped up his jacket, looked in our direction and quietly said “Happy Thanksgiving” with a shrug. As he prepared to leave, the woman and I nodded our heads and gave partial smiles. When the man started his Harley, the sudden noise seemed harsh in the surroundings, yet I sucked it in with a short gasp only I could hear.

The Harley and his rider slowly rolled up the hill and hesitated at the top, pulled onto the sidewalk and into the main street. Once the bike was out of site, the woman then stood, adjusted her shoes again and tightened her ponytail. She glanced in my direction, said “Enjoy your day” and as I murmured “Likewise”, she zipped up her jacket and started jogging in a slow pace down the main path. Her figure remained longer than the sound of crunching leaves, though eventually faded from my myopic sight.

I sat for a few moments longer and closed my eyes. As I attempted to follow each group of frogs, tilting my face in their direction, I started laughing at myself. Thrilled with my mood change I pulled myself upright. I walked along the platform to the stairs, grinning as the wind blew against my dry skin and stray hairs. After climbing down, I grabbed a metal bar from underneath, swung once and giggled.

Out of the play area, I readied my MP3 player, checked my pocket for keys and my cell phone for the time and walked along the path toward home. As I enjoyed the walk home, I rubbed my bare arms to stay warm yet wlecomed the chill. The sun had set a while ago and though it left the blue sky rimmed with an orange-yellow glow, all warmth had disappeared. Few cars were on the road as I turned home; I was thankful for the time to myself even though I hadn’t been alone.

I slowly got out of bed this morning with the clock approaching noon and all I wanted to do was climb back in. When asked why I was so low, so drained, I had no idea, could only think of everything happening as of late, how the unknown was getting to be too much. And then I felt sick, and I returned to bed, relieved. For once I was physically ill, not mentally, and it was a nice change.

I’m sure it sounds strange, that I would be grateful to be sick, generally not something welcomed. But, while I’m hoping this clears up as I have a couple papers to write tomorrow, to me it is predictable, and to others, acceptable. To sleep eighteen hours because I just couldn’t get up brings questions of why, what’s wrong, and so on, yet it was accepted by many shortly after I informed them I had some bug, with no questions.

Mostly, I spent the remainder of my afternoon and evening in bed, trying miserably to ignore the nauseous feeling. Odd as it may seem, it was reassuring, and good to be like everyone else for once.

I probably confuse those who read here yet know me in real life as I must seem somewhat normal when they’re in my company. Normal, meaning not displaying any abnormal behavior according to society. Really, it’s that I refrain from engaging with people when I’m not on best behaviors, or as of late, not twitching like a dog chewing on a hairball.

Mood wise I am doing well, which frustrates me even more, as I don’t want to mess with the chemicals, wish to leave them be. But if these damn twitches don’t fucking go away I’m calling the pdoc. I was dealing, trying not to get aggravated with the inability to steady my paintbrush on Sunday, and even laughing at myself when my sudden movements while using a mouse created some interesting results. Yet I was not too thrilled when, while driving down Scott road, bumpy and irritating already due to construction, I nearly ran into a ditch and another time a car thanks to the sudden movements of my arms.

If I could trade these twitches for tremors I would, though it’s sad when I finally get to a point where I’m not on a battleground in the bipolar world there’s more to deal with. I suppose messing with my liver isn’t enough.

I am definitely in an odd mood today. Perhaps I could use these twitchings to my benefit and give out a few random smacks or kicks, put em to good use.

Oh, I have so many stories to tell of Ashleigh from the past few days but I just don’t have the energy. She is what keeps me going right now, and with that I offer the latest tidbit from last night’s conversation.

We were talking for a little while and then I just couldn’t understand what she was saying. Not that it was unintelligible, but it didn’t flow with our conversation. So I asked Ash if she was talking to her imaginary friend and she responded “No”.

“Are you talking to your sister?” (non-existent and technically her imaginary friend)

“No…”

“Then who are you talking to?”

“I’m talking to myself!”