Turns out another exhilerating night at the gym was the key, as I sit here, slipping from the workout buzz into a mellow somethingorother.  Ready to slide into the cool and engulfing sheets, the earlier moments of mindless driving are no longer important as they seemed.

My mind remains a mixture of moods, but not as intense, and I even feel like I have control.  Perhaps I am disillusioned, but I’ll enjoy the pleasureable haze while it exists.

To quote Ashleigh’s favorite book (My Many Colored Days), today it’s been a “Gray Day…everything is gray. I watch. But nothing moves today”, a “purple day…I’m sad. I groan, I drag my tail. I walk alone.” and most of all a “Black day. Mad. And loud. I howl. I growl at every cloud.” So, yes, it’s a “mixed-up day” when “I don’t know who or what I am!”

This funk is tiresome and it only started yesterday evening. To top it off I have this intense sexual feeling and they’re both battling it out within my system. According to to Adrian I sent him a text message at 1:40 AM saying I was hearing transmitter noises, something I vaguely recall but will have to credit Sudafed for that experience. To say I’m out of it doesn’t quite cover all bases.

Last night I wanted to walk outside in the rain, but felt ultra crappy, with burning eyes and some nasty stuff taking over. I was tired, wanted to sleep it off and very, very horny, missing Ash like crazy, yet annoyed with her lately (have no idea why), and wanted go to the gym and work up a good sweat but felt so weak. Overnight the cold/allergies/bugger went away and was replaced by this funk that I have no idea what to do with. I even have that “I wanna just goooo” feeling, to drive and drive until I’ve reached a random destination and must turn around. I am aggitated, scowling at the world, but laughing at myself; sad and longing when I think of the unknown, yet singing to my music until my voice is hoarse…only to find myself wiping around my eyes and smiling at the inquisitive old lady waiting at the stoplight next to me.

I quite prefer the definite mood instigators over the randomness of late. The overall happiness was apparently temporary, but perhaps I can convince it to return in the near future. So long as I don’t slip into the depression that defies all sense of survival, because these days, I’m not sure I could make it through another sleep deprivation session. I’m crashing at 11PM on a regular basis, with only Sobe influencing a 1AM bedtime.

It’s not so bad, it’s just another perspective on life I’m trying out for now.

But it all
turns out all right,
you see.

And I go back
to being…
me.

It seems the happier I am the fewer words I have to share. I suppose it suits everyone’s entertainment that I experience difficulties and tortuous mental dilemmas, but I am relieved by this change in pace. There are moments when I wonder if this will last, if it’s only a result of hypomania sneaking up on me, but those questions don’t remain too long. I’m busy living life and making sure I enjoy every minute of it.

In doing so, I’ve decided to start exploring this world around me, the Southern California I’ve lived in for four years and yet know little about. Last weekend I visited a familiar La Jolla, and today, I found a hidden Glen Helen Park, near San Bernardino, thanks to Adrian’s suggestion. I parked in the upper park, full of a large grassy area and a number of picnic tables placed throughout. Lined with many trees and with the surrounding mountains, it didn’t matter the sky was sprayed with thick clouds.

Considering I didn’t get to stay for the sunsent, as the park closed at 5 PM, I enjoyed the hour spent walking around. Silence, or near solitude is always welcomed, and it seems to be very healthy for my mind as of late. I know when Ash returns it won’t be quite so silent, but the time away from home and exploring new places is what I’m looking forward to.

Interesting how no amount of Advil, vicodin, valium, or other miscellaneous pain medications will subside the aching of my arthritic joints, yet hearing a voice dulls the pain nearly instantly.

Last night was nearly impossible. Surrounded by my numerous pillows and poofy down, I watched Tivo with partially closed eyes and attempted to ignore each body part joining in with another pain. As I felt myself slip away, the sounds of Frida and a French singer distracted me enough from my desire to cry, and I fell asleep.

Earlier this afternoon was manageable, though throughout the day I periodically rested my head on my arms, failed attempts at hiding my discomfort from coworkers. And as the morning continued on with arctic bursts from the air conditioner, the office temperature fluxuated every ten minutes, and I clinched my jaw, waiting for the hours to pass. The warmth of a stuffy car waiting in a parking lot was just what I needed.

In hopes of keeping the joints warm, I pushed myself to the gym tonight. The usual routine was difficult as my grip was almost nonexistant and my knee joints weak, yet it was soothing at the same time. I walked out of there revived, ready to tackle the rest of the night (or perhaps someone), even if a was a tad sore. Maybe it’s my ability to take pain and create pleasure (most likely from a life-time of joint issues and a high tolerance of medication), but even when I am suffering I’m healing. And while I ready for tonight’s sleep, I am thankful the pain has subsided. It will never be nonexistant, for it is a constant of mine since age twelve, but at least I know I am alive.

Not quite, that’s my mom, but my extended hours (full-time, finally) have a drawback. I now leave at 5pm and heading home I drive west into the sun. The bright, glaring ball of fire blinding me, giving me reason to be happy for the lengthened day, but at the same time wish I was able to enjoy the sunset.

I am a sucker for sunsets. I never really saw many astonishing ones until I moved to Virginia for year, where the stunning red sky would silence me. Now, California never fails to deliver a beautiful senset a few times a week, and especially in my new home atop of the city, I find myself pausing outside to enjoy the many colors in the sky.

Yesterday I felt the urge to drive somewhere, anywhere, just to get away from home. I needed to clear my mind, to listen to loud music while flying down the road. So, with a few suggestions tossed around by my roommates, I ended up heading to La Jolla. There are many beaches and scenic areas in Southern California but I my heart is in La Jolla. When John took Ash and I there on Mother’s Day, just after moving to California, I didn’t want to leave, and I’ve always felt the desire to return. It’s not a beach full of people soaking up the sun, but a scenic area that makes me smile, the seals on the sand, the waves crashing along the shore and rocks jutting out.

Last night as I started walking from my car, I smiled as I felt the cool wind on my face and heard the waves. I walked up and down, pausing for pictures, leaning against the railings and just relaxed, the cold air on my cheeks. Content, I remained until the last bit of sun could be seen behind the clouds.

After my return trip, a half a tank of gas, and four and a half hours away from home, I realized how glad I was I fought the hovering funk, that I took some time for myself to do what I wanted. The hours will be limited once Ash returns, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make the drive again. Perhaps next time I’ll find another destination in a different direction.

Don’t worry, this isn’t another bitter single person whining about being alone on Valentine’s Day. I just found it interesting that the day I finally get decent reception on the radio and all I hear is sappy love songs. Technically most of them are “missing you so bad I don’t know how to live” or “I’ll do everything I can to make up for fucking up” songs, but I guess that classifies as love for some people. When I think of love I think of a powerful emotion, passion, silliness, pure seduction, and if it’s a break up, more on the lines of intense anger, or determination to survive and move on. Songs being played on a day which is supposed to celebrate love and yet I have heard very few positive, “make me grin like a fool” songs.

Of course I enjoy a love song here and there (even have a “mopey” playlist), but I can’t help but think the best song to accompany love is one which causes me to stand up and dance, to feel, to enhance what already exists.
Ah, but enough sap from me. All is well, for the most part, but I must return to my textbooks and poorly recorded spanish assignments. Oh, and Olympic Curling in the background. Those broom pushers, whew. So sexy.

For your listening pleasure (right click and save as please):
Brian McComas - 99.9% Sure
Bowling for Soup - Smoothie King
Salma Hayek - Quedata Aqui
Megadeth - I’ll Get Even
Dr. Demento - The Little Blue Man

I need to write, I need to share, I have tons on my mind, but for now, at least I have a venue once again. Eventually I’ll import my nearly six years of posts (holy cow) and redesign this whole site (I have something in mind, have for months now).

I’m loaded with my three online classes, enjoying a new home (yes, I moved again), and looking forward to having Ash return later in February. With all that has happened, life is good, just tiresome.