...a way of seeing beyond inner and outer.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Semper veritas. A morning

I write about the ugly parts because ugly happens even though I prefer pretty. It's so much nicer, don't you think?  Me too, but those parts are in other posts.  I have some ugly to work through.  Come back later if you're not up to it.   I would certainly come back later given the option.

A.M. Act I
Today has been spectacularly crappy and it's only 6am.   I am already having a very un-fun day at work. I'm covered in some mystery rash that itches like a son of a birch and makes me look like I'm a symptomatic carrier of something no one wants.  I'm more-blue-than-pink-fingernails cold. No one on this planet is amusing me.  The IRS is...the IRS.  Sleep's been dodgy so I've been cranky for a couple of days. My husband is lov-ing it. (by 10am I'd manage to double post this entry in the rough draft stage while I was trying to close open programs )   And I want to eat.  Notice I did not say, "I'm hungry."  I'm not. "I want to eat." is Me-speak for "I would like some heroin, please, Thank you. Yes, right there would be nice. Oh yes. This helps."  Until it doesn't. 
"This" has an all too familiar feeling to it that isn't bodily hunger.  It's intense discomfort and I want it to stop. Again Daffy Duck leaps to mind.  "I'm not like other people I don't like pain. It hurts me." At the risk of sounding insensitive, I suspect addicts are whiners on some level and I consider what I've done to my own body and what I'm currently doing inside my own head to be addictive behavior, so if I'm being unsympathetic, I'm also being realistic and.... honest. 
There is no external solution for an internal issue.  The itch is unpleasant, but it's not like it's a flesh eating rash. My cold feet could happily stand another pair of socks, maybe some mukluks, but I'm not going to lose any toes.  If asked, you would all have to amuse me all the time, but sadly, I was not asked and you do not have to amuse me any of the time.  Bad work days happen and no amount of food will make that not 
 be.  The IRS, well, nm.  The less said the better.  If there's a good day out there, I ain't havin' it.    So far.... 
AM Act II ( 7:00 am, still morning, but better ) I chose something different.  For starters, I wrote about what I wanted to do versus doing what I wanted to do, which would have required a bag of English muffins, half a stick of butter and at least four ounces of cream cheese. Mmmmmmm...a large rear and guilt.  Tasty.  Truth isn't always pretty but it's always freeing.
The work issues resolved.  It's an on going difference of opinion between myself and a few disgruntled database files over their log file roaming charges and my unwillingness to give them unlimited anything.  Ever. The greedy little parasites.   It will happen again.  The IRS?  No comment and you can quote me on that, actually nm, I'll do it myself "No comment."  I'm hoping that doesn't happen too many more times. I decided to read Madhur Jaffrey's  Climbing Mango Trees: A Memoir of a childhood in India instead of one of her cook books, because whatever the native Indian's recipe said, I would have thought it needed more ghee. Why play with fire? I listened to Stanz Getz and Astrud Gilberto  ( <----this will bring up Youtube.  I myself like a nice heads up in these matters. ) It's aural heroin. I drank more than a few cups of tea in flavors like Coconut Chai Black, and Tropical Green. I ate my totally sane lunch 

with a Paris atelier: 
Paris Atelier

I don't believe in the monsters under my bed any more. They dislike light and I have a mag flash light  that I am not afraid to use, so back the hell up!  No one died and my butt got the TINIEST bit smaller in the writing of the post..   yay.

1 comment:

I love to know what you think, "for the Sake of Blessed Connection and Exquisite Controversy"