Those who’ve known me over and extended amount of time are aware that when I start rearranging furniture I am looking for a way to let the energy escape. Yesterday, I shifted the room around a few times, working through personal issues, battling the ever present libido, the desire to not be single (it comes and goes), cussing through frustrations and furniture that didn’t cooperate, and eventually relaxed on my bed, happy. Same bed, but with a whole new perspective, and that was what I needed, a bit of change.

I haven’t accomplished much today. Okay, not as much as I wanted to, but I did get to the gym (I keep pushing myself, one of these days it’ll be too far), as well as Trader Joes for trail mix, worked some Excel spreadsheets for my awesome coworker Diane, lugged my monitor in from the garage (need to hook it up to the old Dell so I can get the stats to sell), and moved two boxes to the garage that I’ve been bumping into for weeks. I suppose that’s productive, but I still have a list of things to do, such as sort through my bin of mail I haven’t looked at for a month, tackle some items for work (including the web site which needs some serious attention), dry clean my comforter (looks like that’ll happen another day), take pictures of items to sell on Craigslist, laundry, and pack up clothes that keep falling off my ass (for donation purposes).

Of course, in order to accomplish these things I suppose it would help to get my butt in gear and quit leaning back in my chair, eyes closed, listening to my 10 gigs of music on random. Ah, memories, tingles, sadness, laughter, anger, desperation, longing, excitement, happiness, passion; music brings so much to me, takes so much as well.

In hopes of returning to my productivity, I bring you the playlist from this afternoon’s workout. I wasn’t sure how well it would work but it suited my purpose just fine, slower paced songs playing at just the right moments, others just when I needed the oomph. Because I love to share, enjoy the songs below though the files will be gone soon. Right click & save as please (not save ass, like I originally typed).

Then The Morning Comes - Smashmouth
Stand Up - The Clumsy Lovers
Razorblade - Blue October
Holiday - Green Day
Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett
Is That Too Much To Ask - Beth Hart
Calling You - Blue October
I Think I Love You - David Cassidy
This Love - Maroon 5
Always - Saliva
Wake Me Up When September Ends - Green Day
Walk Like a Man - Frankie Vallie and the Four Seasons
Sound of Heaven Pulling Down - Blue October
Hook - Blues Traveler
Something More - Sugarland
Hey Lady - The Bradbury Press
C’mon Baby - Wakefield
Je M’Ennuie - Unknown Artist (from Henry & June Soundtrack)

I timed it perfectly and was walking to the locker room to cool down and stretch as the last one came on. If only I could time the rest of my life so well.

On that note, I send this post out to Theron and his new ipod; he’s probably enjoying it and all the buttons as much as I would a new vibrator.

p.s. - I received an A in PHIL 112 (Methods of Argument)…kick ass!

I couldn’t sleep last night, tossing and rolling around in my sheet, flopping face down on pillows, eventually flinging half of them across the room. Music annoyed me, lacking the usual reassurance.

The fact that I am completely aware I’m no longer flying high in the world of sexual desire and creative ambition does not make today any easier. I am quite sure I’ll be messed up for a bit, thanks to my missing eight dosages (back on track, including the nagging gagging feeling before and after each swallow).  Still sucks.

The fog which surrounds me is relentless, and my thoughts interrupt all others “supposed to dos” with ideas of sleep.  On the lobby couch, my stuffy car, anywhere, I would love to lie down and nap, curling my body against the surface.

But I doesn’t matter what energy drink or amount of caffeine I drink, I need to cry.  The battle to refrain is painful and only tiring me out more so each minute.  I will make my round at the gym after work, but I can’t help but wonder if I’ll physically be able to punch my bag, or push each leg through a revolution on the bike.

Ash returns on the 13^th and I hope by then I’ve returned to some form of stability. She brings such life to my days with our phone conversations with the silliness we both seem to thrive on.  I will have a tickle partner once again; someone to sing and draw with, and most importantly, an imaginative mind to share fascinating dreamscapes and intricate plans of conquering with.

Meanwhile, I’ll manage the rest of today in some format, my mind constantly returning to an image which soothes me;  a face that always encourages a smile, even if a half one.

I want skin against skin, someone to lean against, mumble silly babblings and trace random shapes with fingertips.

I had a nagging suspicion last night as I fell asleep that I had forgotten to do something. In fact, the feeling had been there for about a week, but I couldn’t place it, had run down my mental list of lists to do with no results. This morning, as I walked by the bathroom counter, wiping grogginess from my eyes, a flash of red slapped me via my peripheral vision and I stopped instantly. As I slowly picked up my snazzy Target prescription bottle, spun off the lid, my stomach began turning as I started counting. Thirty-two more pills in there than should be. Eight days worth. Fuck.

Every night as I reached over to turn off my Absolut lamp, I asked myself “did you take your meds?” and each time I answered with a “yeah, of course” or “pretty sure” or “yup”, and rolled over to sleep without any lingering thought.

I’m not sure what to think about this whole thing, though I joked about it with D. earlier. Really, I should be concerned, worried, as it is NOT cool that I missed eight days of meds, yet a part of me just doesn’t give a fuck. Scary. Very, very, not okay. Sigh. I read of others who have p-docs to call in situations such as this, and yet I just held my bottle of pills in my hand, shaking my head, laughing, wondering. Perhaps this attitude is what causes me problems in the first place but I honestly don’t know how else to react. Well, other than with questions. Lots, and lot of questions.

Is my exuberant mood the last week because of my lack of compliance and a bad case of memory issues? Or was there something in me that purposely didn’t take my meds, smothering those nagging feelings I had each night? I didn’t like the extreme case of doubt tonight, as I wondered if I was swallowing my peach pills for the first…or second time.

Doubt is a poison for me, it deteriorates my confidence, destroys my insides with worry and backs me into a corner which I eventually feel comfortable in. An enemy from my toddler years until now, I’ve become the squasher of the doubt as I learn to survive but I feel it tap, tap, tapping away at my walls of pride and they are beginning to crumble.

When I question my memory, my recollection of what existed, I feel lost, I don’t believe anything. I dissect my thoughts, actions, and interrogate myself after each conversation I participate in. I don’t trust myself right now and with that I am left spinning. For I must trust and believe in me before I can understand what I am surrounded by.

Tonight, I hope to dream, to remind this Viking who and what I am and smother the voices of doubt before I no longer hear my own voice.

I feel so very alive today. There is a heavy tiredness hovering over me, but I shoo it away. An 8 o’clock Spinning session flung me awake, alert and ready to accomplish something, anything. After a week of long days, a very successful event for the museum on Thursday, and a large chunk of time studying, if anything I should be sleeping the day away, as the prior two weeks. But I am unable to.

This heat in the Valley has been exhausting, the sweat frustrating and disgusting, but the rare cool breeze so tantilizing. Every so often I pause after reading a few pages from my book and look out the window. My fans (jet engines as per R.) blow my tousled hair away from my face as I lean my head back, breathe in, breathe out, and yes, smile. At the world, the fluttering tree leaves, the poofy white clouds in the bold blue sky, the kids falling off their scooters attempting tricks, the neighbor riding away on his Harley, the FSM decal on the rear of my dusty Portege. Eventually I continue reading, absorbing the make believe but nearly believable worlds.

My current read is another adventure/mystery type dealio by Iris Johansen, an author I discovered last year. Over the months I have continued to tackle her long list of titles, pleasantly surprised. The plots are enticing, the characters dynamic, women are strong and as a nice change, men are not treated as disposable knuckleheads. Most enjoyable is the sexual tension included throughout the pages, and I’ve found it quite refreshing. It’s not the writing of Playboy, nor pathetic renderings of sexual acts such as romance novels, but realistic. Fire, lust, fever, tumultuous times, and the acknowledgement of humanity.

It is a pleasure to read something that comes just a bit closer to how we, male and female, exhist together. To deny the natural responses, the idea that sexual attraction is a large part of how we interact every day would be so counterproductive. So many try to ignore what’s there and all they do is deny reality, deny life.

Yesterday, I failed miserably. I tried and tried and tried, but to no avail, my weaknesses won. No matter how much I proclaimed to Ashleigh that I couldn’t laugh, I didn’t know how to laugh, she knew otherwise. After a minute of her exclaiming “you know how to laugh, Mom, you do it all the time. You’re silly, laugh, laugh, LAUGH” I gave in…and laughed.

Games of ours like this remind me how vital my sense or humor is to survival. In fact, last night’s phone conversation drifted from Ash discussing how much she wishes to return to California to banana fanna fo fanna…okie dokie pinochi padoody booty…and my personal rendition of “Tomorrow, tomorrow…I’ll love you…tomorrow.” I love to laugh, smile, goof off and she does as well. Like myself, I’m quite sure it’s one of her coping mechanisms in dealing with the craziness of life, and I am comforted by such a thought.

On my darkest days, during my most grumble grumble, exhausted and hopeless nights, pain is soothed with a comedic outlook. Life is not a sitcom every day, but even when I’m not laughing, there is something, though at times minute, which will bring a smile or smirk (the word ‘smirk’ does the job itself).

I am not very fond of cats but recently the three felines of the house have entertainment me in the evenings; the overweight cat and two kittens mischievous antics leave me shaking my head while chuckling. Earlier this week, while saying my good-byes to Ashleigh, she responded to my “take care” with “mom, I always take care”. I hung up the phone while laughing aloud. Frustrated beyond all I’ve known, my libido has run rampant as of late (it’s the full moon, I swear), but all I can do is bite my lip and smile playfully.

Grief is not extinguished with laughter, nor is emptiness replaced by smiles, but the amount which I am able to handle is augmented. Try seeing someone stick their tongue out at you and still resist the corners of your mouth from rising.

I don’t recall feeling this way years ago though I’m aware it’s the only way I’ve outlasted the hours and days up to this evening. Life is not easy and many days suck dried-up donkey balls, but it’s my overall outlook which improves my chance of survival. The ole “life gives you lemons, made lemonade” example has been overused, so try the “life gives you balls…suck em.”

Another encouraging thought: I’m still ticklish. Endless amusement at your fingertips!

I write this after a night only four hours sleeps thanks to insomnia, and yet my side hurts from laughing constantly all day along with coworkers. Not an everyday occurrence, but definitely the necessary ingredient for today’s endurance.

Earlier I headed downstairs to retrieve my Gatorade in perfect slushy form from the freezer.  As I walked down the hall toward the stairs, I realized I wouldn’t have to   blindly feel along the wall for a light switch.  Guiding my way, the moon illuminated the entire downstairs, shining in through the French doors and high windows.  For a moment I paused, watching the slight breeze brush across the pool water, creating subtle ripples under the glow of the moonlight.

After a week of chaos at work, and continuing internal turmoil regarding a friend, I was grateful for the chance to take a breather, to let the mind screech to a halt and relax.

I was tired until this last hour and yet I slept most of the day.  Thankfully a good friend woke me with a call earlier this evening or I have a feeling I’d still be sleeping.  Work was the only reason I awoke and dressed this week, an office move I couldn’t ignore, my desire to hide from the world pushed aside.  I made it to Spin class Thursday, and while I enjoyed the euphoria of exertion, my upper body routine which usually follows, seemed daunting, and instead I retired to the shower exhausted.

Ashleigh called at 11:30PM (1:30 there in Texas), upset and crying, missing me and afraid of the lighting, thunder and rain of a storm.  Sadness overwhelmed me as I tried to calm her down over the phone, and as she sobbed “I want to be with you mom” I had to fight from crying myself.  I’m not sure how to react to what John informed me of afterward, that there was no such storm.

Sitting in bed, propped against the wall, I am listening to Blue October again, but at least my playlist includes more than the previous four much-obsessed-over songs.  Thoughts are stuck on repeat within my head and I can’t seem to shake the feeling of being surrounded by spiders, the idea that I really haven’t had a grasp on life as of late.  I can’t shake the utter lonesomeness I feel when I look out the window, as I step outside my room and the roommates’ cat looks at me from his perch.

Tomorrow I am attempting to venture out into the world, alone, but in hopes of finding life with my camera.  Music, sun, and expressive people are typically magical; I only hope I am able to return the smiles, the random chatter and enjoyment they offer.