Screw my imagination

Get stewed.

Salty

“Done,” he says. I relax my arms and legs and toes and fingers from being clenched up on the dentist's chair. I take a deep breath and unsquinch my eyes. Let it out and shake uncontrolably. 

"The novacaine is usually what makes you shakey for a while after" she screeches. She doesn't see me but I  shoot an glare to my left. It's not right for me to hate them, but right now I need something to hate and someone to blame- just for the minute. I hate them, I hate needles in my mouth, people in my mouth, the cold weather, to-do lists, being positive, being negative, sleeping, not sleeping. Work is the only place I can be alone lately. Just me and Elliott.

After two plays of Figure 8, and a visit with Maura though, I'm back to my hopelessly positive self. Still, unattempted salt comes again. I can only cry at movies when animals get hurt. Humans pamper themselves too much and the ocean is too beautiful and vast of a thing to not cry about.

I won't melt away

American Apparel Teeth

Silly Humans

Often I  ponder about what was intended for ancient man- what was supposed to happen, what were we supposed to do?

I also sometimes like to zoom out on myself, almost like I'm meditating. 

It of course makes everything smaller, stupider. Even thinks I admire most when I'm here on Earth like incredible literary knowledge and talent. I think about how odd speaking is, music is: making noises, how can one be better than another? 

Tattoos of Ships

It's funny how many people give a crap.

Just when you think no one does.

Makes you have to keep going- whether you want to or not.

Goodnight, frustration.

As I lay here next to my mother who is making cute noises as she breathes, I realize that I only ever write at night.  For some reason, although I am better at paying attention to subjects like math, and better at paying attention to reading a book while I'm awake in the morning, my head is much more calm- though not exactly clear at night. Most of the time, I feel like I want to washout my brain with mint shampoo and rinse it so my thoughts seem lucid or even sane. But no matter how much I don't want it to be- it's usually pretty murky. 

Although I have felt like I've been less productive, I'm starting to think that this whole "spending time on me" thing may turn out to have positive effects, but I guess we'll see. For now, resting is what I should do "for me", so I will.

Goodnight moon.

The First Day of School

Doctors' office secretaries are always slamming the slamming the sliding plastic partition shut as if some of our illness or injury will somehow find its way through and onto their frenchfries. Today was not the best of days, not only because I hate regression and this whole situation is one big regression and each little regression seems to just tap me over the edge of sanity for a few hours like in a game of break the ice, but also because I hate novocaine and the big puffy but frozen tingly numbness it leaves behind.

Lately, I feel like I've become a couch potato. What a dreadful thing to become-how upsetting it is to binge on television and get sucked into the computer, wasting my life away- especially now. There's nothing worse than looking at the clock to find its now three hours later even though you only intended to check your email and get things sorted out before tackling your todo list. Scribbling some pathetic answers on how-do-you-feel-about-this-and-that-worksheets was the only thing I could do to make myself feel a little bit better about watching an episode of Hung, one of Weeds, and ending with Madmen. OnDemand has become my new comfort food.

Here's hoping I'll wake up on the right side tomorrow.