endings are beginnings

Today is my last day of classes for this semester and, as it turns out, the next one too. It was a fairly unthoughtful decision, as I was simply too sick and tired to maneuver my way through the bullshit that is registering for classes.

That sounded dramatic. It really isn't that hard, I just have been feeling pretty poorly.

Regardless, no class next semester. I am going to take the time to be well, to work, to visit an acupuncturist, to participate in good things like church and mentoring, to do yoga and go swimming, and to spend time with my friends. That sounds like a very full life to me, thank you very much.

Christmas is fast approaching and I had a realization at some point that the holidays are just another period of busyness. Enforced busyness because its family and you cannot say no. Also, every friend who has left town now returns to town to visit their families, and you have to make time to see them too. Because they are your friends. I managed to avoid this enforced busyness during Thanksgiving by simply forgetting to call anyone back. This is legitimate. I simply forgot, and as a result spend my Thanksgiving doing nothing. Not even anything at all.

I am still having frequent headaches. Not every day (thank you, random seizure medicine), but often enough to make me feel crappy. I may have sabotaged myself a bit by starting to drink coffee again. I kind of, sort of decided that, maybe, since I was on blood pressure medicine a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt me. And, headaches. I guess I will go off them again. HEADACHES.

It is finally cold today. With a promise of snow on Friday. I am coated, but unfortunately not gloved or scarfed or hatted. Cold.

Thats the way we get by, oh, way

I am highly medicated. I also feel like I have maxed out on my freak out allowance. Poor Drew. The dear. I have been a little shamed by my ridiculousness; my unexpected tears and completely unfounded dire predictions. I am not usually like this.

However, when mentioned to Noah on the phone he said, "Really, Ellie? That is who you are." So I am thinking that my hard-worked for stoic facade is a total wash. They all know me, apparently. It is I who am being fooled.

We went to the book fair this weekend and I bought both Bridgette Jones books for a dollar. I have been reading this book, fairly compulsively, and find that I like it for all the reasons that I like the movies, and dislike to for all the reasons I dislike the movies. I am starting to think that Helen Fielding hates women. Or wants other people to hate women. There is this incredibly likable honesty to these books. Bridgette is ridiculous, but not bad. She is a mess, but only in her head, in her own home, and sometimes in her choices. However there is this horrific focus on Bridgette's weight. I know we do this, but at no point in this book is she over 132 lbs. In a chapter I just read, Bridge hits 119 and declares, "I am thin." This makes me crazy. I realize that this is a farce of some kind, a satire directed towards women, but it is just too too stupid and unbelievable.

I was reading and listening to music and The Innocence Missions "Lakes of Canada" came on and I was totally overwhelmed by the impulse to toss the book from me. You can't read common nonsense and listen to something wonderfully good.

I am often scheduled to close on Sunday nights and open on Monday mornings. The schedule maker at work doesn't catch slip ups between weeks like that and my boss doesn't catch them very often either. My availability somehow lends itself to this as well. During the week I can only work Monday and Wednesday mornings, which means, come Monday morning at five am you will find me making peoples coffee. And because I can work whenever all weekend, I get a lot of the crappier shifts, like closing every night. Last night I had the option of five hours of sleep but, due to fitfulness and itchiness which my paranoia tells me is directly related to random combinations of prescriptions, I slept about two and a half. After work today I headed home to take a nap, in an attempt to survive this day. I slept from 1:15 to about 5:15, which is great since I had a class at 2:30. Awesome.

I've been struggling a bit these last couple days. Both superiorly irritated by everyone/everything, and completely unable to motivate myself to actually get out of bed and do anything. It feels, actually, now that I think about it, like a real depression. There is nothing actually wrong, I just can't seem to see the point in getting out of bed at all, ever. And by ever I mean all the time, not just when I am actually in a position to get up. It seems to be every day/all day, any breathing time leads to this sinking, a staring into space that is crippling.

So that is where I am these days. Fine. Medicated. Generally feeling better. Struggling a little with whatever it is that I am struggling with.

We be busy

Welcome back, health insurance. Two doctors appointments down, two more scheduled for next week. My doctor was mildly horrified that I hadn't gotten my thyroid issues cared for just yet. "Your bones will turn to mush!", he said. Yes. Those words came out of his mouth. He asked me with concern about whether or not my eyes had been popping out. No, sir. They haven't. Until now that had been my major concern. Now, it's my bones. Yes. Mushy bones. Hell. A bit of a stressful morning, really. He gave me a prescription for nerve pain, hoping it would help out with my headaches. Nerve pain meds. Mushy bones. Geez. My endocrinologist appointment is next Tuesday. We will get this taken care of.

I am a tired, over worked little girl, but it looks like I won't be sick too much longer. Yeah. I've been invited by Drew's mom to go to their house for thanksgiving. That is a nice thing. I don't know what my work schedule will be (Starbucks stays open on thanksgiving, you know), but if I can I'd like to go.

School has been close to impossible this semester. There are not enough hours in the week. Maybe school is just close to impossible for everyone always. I don't know. I'm too old maybe. I can't work like I work and live like I live and study. Can't. Can not.

Drew and I went with some friends to a midnight showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show, complete with actors, prop bags, and call back scripts. More fun than I have had in a long time. Raunchy, kitschy, late night fun. I laughed really hard and was really tired.

This weekend is Pumpkin Jam, a baby shower, and an out of town birthday party.

search your heart

When Texas gets rain it changes everything. Our clay soil absorbs nothing and our burgeoning corn fields become rice paddies, streaked with light. It is amazing how water reflects the sky. I am aware that this is a commonly known fact, but I am so struck by it on days like today, when the sky is gray and limiting, and yet it is still brighter than the rain soaked ground. Brilliant, silver flashes catching my eye, enlivening my life.

I watched some red wigglers get washed out of the grass, to pool on the side walk. I stopped and scooped handfuls of worms up of the concrete and flung them in the grass. Handful after handful. I was yelled at for being weird.

I've been feeling pretty crappy these days. It is getting harder and harder to live the lively life I have set up for myself. I write poetry when I'm tired like this. It is hilariously maudlin. I write it down and keep it safe because poetry is supposed to be maudlin and maybe someone will pay me for it someday.

I am currently cramming as much information about the metabolic pathways into my head as is possible. I have until Monday to do this.

I am cold. Isn't that wonderful?

Here. Some poem:

I have often wanted to be reborn
as sea kelp. Placid and maternal,
vibrantly alive, slowly stretching
to encompass the world in my arms.

I love egrets
as insubstantial as filigree
beneath the edifice of cows.