Saturday, June 24, 2006
on emotional outbursts, and how to harness them:
i have this strange sensation behind my eyes that won't go away.
not quite a tingle or a sting or an itch. it's like someone is back there scratching, or maybe even just whispering little puffs of smoke and syllables. but it's there. pestering and perpetual. to remind me that i must remain emotionally taut at all times, because a spontaneous overflow could happen at any moment, with little to no warning at all. i don't know exactly why i'm afraid to let myself cry. probably it's because i think i've done too much of that already and it doesn't really help anyone in the long run. i've filled my tear-quota. to cry more now would be selfish, hogging all the sadness away from orphans and sick babies and lovelorn teenagers. i know that i should make allowances for myself every now and again, but i can't just be crying haphazardly whenever the mood strikes me. that could be wildly inappropriate and possibly embarassing. that would be chaos and i can't have chaos. there has to be some semblance of order. there has to be control or the whole system is going to fall to shambles.
here is what i have found works best: i cry at the gym. this may sound strange to you, but i actually find extremely theraputic. i hop on a crosstrainer, crank up my ipod and when i really start sweating, i sob and sob and sob. the two activities together lead to a total catharsis and i leave feeling calm and relaxed, although often exhausted. and while you might think that openly crying in a public place is grotesque and awkward, i have found that with the droning of the machines, the commonplace acceptance of a red, puffy face and the prevalence of portable mp3 players, no one notices a thing. i could be in another galaxy, but i'm not. i'm completely surrounded. i'm in a room full of strangers, crying in absolute privacy.
not quite a tingle or a sting or an itch. it's like someone is back there scratching, or maybe even just whispering little puffs of smoke and syllables. but it's there. pestering and perpetual. to remind me that i must remain emotionally taut at all times, because a spontaneous overflow could happen at any moment, with little to no warning at all. i don't know exactly why i'm afraid to let myself cry. probably it's because i think i've done too much of that already and it doesn't really help anyone in the long run. i've filled my tear-quota. to cry more now would be selfish, hogging all the sadness away from orphans and sick babies and lovelorn teenagers. i know that i should make allowances for myself every now and again, but i can't just be crying haphazardly whenever the mood strikes me. that could be wildly inappropriate and possibly embarassing. that would be chaos and i can't have chaos. there has to be some semblance of order. there has to be control or the whole system is going to fall to shambles.
here is what i have found works best: i cry at the gym. this may sound strange to you, but i actually find extremely theraputic. i hop on a crosstrainer, crank up my ipod and when i really start sweating, i sob and sob and sob. the two activities together lead to a total catharsis and i leave feeling calm and relaxed, although often exhausted. and while you might think that openly crying in a public place is grotesque and awkward, i have found that with the droning of the machines, the commonplace acceptance of a red, puffy face and the prevalence of portable mp3 players, no one notices a thing. i could be in another galaxy, but i'm not. i'm completely surrounded. i'm in a room full of strangers, crying in absolute privacy.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
moving day approaches and i already have forgotten where and how i packed everything.
my own place is a labyrinth of my own life condensed, psuedo-organized and fitted tetris-style into cardboard cubes. meanwhile, the hallway at iain's is an ever-narrowing passage of dusty boxes and to-do lists. i'll be glad when it's over.
on the bright side. i've managed to score one of those cushy, leather power chairs for iain's hospital room ( le suite kickass). i'm talking soft supple leather and it not only reclines with the push of a button, but should i feel lazy enough, it will stand me in an upright position without any of my own efforts. as we speak, i am probably depriving some poor, mobility-challenged old woman of her, well, mobility, but fuck her. passing those long, hot summer evenings in a sterile room with weird, droning machinery is now extra comfy.
other news: today marked the first day of my full-time hours at second cup cs. in other words, today marked the beginning of my slow and stealthy takeover. this means no more new age walmartesque country music. no more michael fucking buble. no more smiling pleasantly over the counter at seven in the morning. you want your coffee? come armed my friend. pack two barrels of wit and sarcasm in your holster and anticipate that my trigger finger is going to itch.
two side notes: (one) a hearty welcome to melissa for moving into the city. you're a true haligonian now. have a donair. smell that not-so-fresh harbour breeze. (two) sarah romkey's uncle phil is driving me to tantallon to acquire a couch. he's a customer at my work and he has long hair and sometimes wears a beret. very artiste.
my own place is a labyrinth of my own life condensed, psuedo-organized and fitted tetris-style into cardboard cubes. meanwhile, the hallway at iain's is an ever-narrowing passage of dusty boxes and to-do lists. i'll be glad when it's over.
on the bright side. i've managed to score one of those cushy, leather power chairs for iain's hospital room ( le suite kickass). i'm talking soft supple leather and it not only reclines with the push of a button, but should i feel lazy enough, it will stand me in an upright position without any of my own efforts. as we speak, i am probably depriving some poor, mobility-challenged old woman of her, well, mobility, but fuck her. passing those long, hot summer evenings in a sterile room with weird, droning machinery is now extra comfy.
other news: today marked the first day of my full-time hours at second cup cs. in other words, today marked the beginning of my slow and stealthy takeover. this means no more new age walmartesque country music. no more michael fucking buble. no more smiling pleasantly over the counter at seven in the morning. you want your coffee? come armed my friend. pack two barrels of wit and sarcasm in your holster and anticipate that my trigger finger is going to itch.
two side notes: (one) a hearty welcome to melissa for moving into the city. you're a true haligonian now. have a donair. smell that not-so-fresh harbour breeze. (two) sarah romkey's uncle phil is driving me to tantallon to acquire a couch. he's a customer at my work and he has long hair and sometimes wears a beret. very artiste.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
my brain is making crunching metal sounds.
last night was fun.
last night was fun.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
there is much to tell and no words that fit.
things are going as well as can be expected.
a bone marrow match and a fainting scare. i am taught to give you needles at home and i try to encourage good blood chemistry with my great grandmother's banana bread recipe.
with all of this and the added stress and complication of moving, i've got self-imposed blinders. tunnel vision. the only thing i can see at the end is you.
after two weeks of rain, i feel like i've got a whole new skin, raw and pink and screaming under the barreling sunlight. i've got new tunes on my ipod. i've got a list for everyday until forever. i've got you to think about, always. i've got some spare change in my pocket and my best foot forward.
things are going as well as can be expected.
a bone marrow match and a fainting scare. i am taught to give you needles at home and i try to encourage good blood chemistry with my great grandmother's banana bread recipe.
with all of this and the added stress and complication of moving, i've got self-imposed blinders. tunnel vision. the only thing i can see at the end is you.
after two weeks of rain, i feel like i've got a whole new skin, raw and pink and screaming under the barreling sunlight. i've got new tunes on my ipod. i've got a list for everyday until forever. i've got you to think about, always. i've got some spare change in my pocket and my best foot forward.
