Lovely List

Wonderfuls that get me smiling

A fun new song on the radio while driving in the spring time, windows down, and enjoying warm air after a long cold winter.

Curling up with a good book or a good show and realizing that once you’re done, there’s nothing else you have to do but get in your sleepies and get ready for bed.

Seeing something you’ve been planning for a long time finally falling into place.

Daydreaming about the next big plan and the steps to get there.

Realizing something you thought was terrible…actually didn’t turn out all that bad. Maybe it even makes you proud. Or inexplicably content.

Looking around at what you have and feeling really, deeply thankful.

Laughing as hard at something as you did when you first came across it, even if it was 20+ years ago.

Silly songs.

Sweet kitties (or puppies for me doggy people).

Feeling like you’ve been stranded in a horrible storm of life for months or years, until you’re finally at the place where the phrase, “It will be okay” is finally able to have any meaning for you.


What are the things that made you smile today?

Free writes

I love the way this makes me feel

Free write

Trying not to think of dates, but instead of what has now captured my thoughts and air. I’m just letting my fingers go. Fly, find your rhythm, the one that leads to creativity, or expression. Yes, the one that isn’t affected by anything else around. Except for the music. And the music takes me…

I can feel the chill of a not yet warm ocean, the hot sun trying to return warmth to me, sand soft one minute and firm the next. Just the thoughts close my eyes as I hold my breath and sink, for no other reason but to be a part of this huge thing, this ecosystem, this attractive and vital liquid. Here, I can just exist-why is that thought so exciting? I’m alive. We’re alive. We exist. Up and down, in and out, the cycle- and here, not even the thought of it ending can scare me.

I can feel the weight of a heavy head of wet hair as I come up for air- the wonderful nothingness I inhale that feels so very good. When I close my eyes, I can almost be one with you. One with the never ending feeling of the tide trying to make me dance and make me stand still, inviting and declining over and over. It’s so real, my shoulders hurt slightly from the burn of an unseasonably hot sun. I shiver. It’s time to go.

I’m in awe that music can do that, take me on the most realistic of daydreams. Within that place, I feel like an immeasurably giant creature in pieces, in a cycle of running into itself and inevitably finding itself awash in the breadth of its own existence. To be given that feeling by others…I just love the way this makes me feel.


Inspiration- “Underwater” by Mika


What I’ve been up to

I know usually Wednesday is an audio, and Thursday is a free write, but I was a little…well, unwell for doing a voice memo entry yesterday. I had my wisdom teeth removed a few days ago. I know, it’s something usually done in the teen years, but I was ready now, so that’s how it happened.

All things considered it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. I was awake during the procedure, though I did opt for Valium to help calm my nerves. In the past, I had been given Valium I.V. for other procedures and it never made me anywhere near as sleepy as other benzodiazepines, so I decided it might be just the thing to take the edge off. In hindsight, I likely would have had the same effect if I had just taken the water sans pill. ‘sigh’

My main source of nervousness came from the administration of anesthetic. In the past, my dentist had used prilocaine, a local anesthetic with a relatively short duration, which had worked well for the small amount of work I needed. But for a procedure like an extraction, he opted for lidocaine, which in the past had left me numb for up to 8 hours. And there are few feelings I hate more than the sensation of being numb. But there was nothing I could do, so to the best of my ability I sat still and tried not to think of the next 8 hours of nothingness my mouth would be subjected to.

You might be thinking, “What? Are you mad? Would you rather the pain of having four teeth yanked out of your mouth?” Well, not while it’s being done, no. But I can’t adjust to a pain I can’t feel, and the sooner I can feel it, the sooner that process can begin, even if adjusting does initially involve a few hours of me clutching a pillow, pinching the tiny space between my eyes and saying, “Oh my gosh, this hurts,” in a hushed breath over and over. ‘shrug’ Just the way I prefer it.

But lucky me! After my initial freak out (when as they were going to start I flung myself upright, realizing that cracking and crunching sounds were soon to follow), I decided to let it happen, telling myself, “Your only responsibility is to focus on your nose, breathing in and out”. And that’s what I did. And even when they reached my bottom teeth (which were not completely numb- the inner back quadrants still had sensation), I decided I was not going to say a thing and have to get shot again. My only responsibility was focusing on my nose, breathing in and out.

(Okay, yes, it did occur to me that I might hit the ceiling if the sensation was too much, but I just knew I could handle the pain, so I did. It actually wasn’t that bad, but the crunching and twisting was very funky.)

And lucky me again! Instead of having to endure 8 hours of numbness, I only had to put up with about 3, which left me to get in touch with that new feeling in my mouth. But boy, was I surprised. For whatever reason, the feeling was nothing like what I was expecting (achy, tight, pounding jaws and cheeks). It almost felt like I’d had braces put on. The shifting soreness from molar to incisor, the “gappy” feeling between my cheek and gums (caused, in this case, by swelling). This was easy! This, I could put up with. Even if it does make me grumpy. Just a little. A touch. A tick.

It’s been a couple days and I’m not doing too bad. Talking a lot hurts, as does being too active. Frankly, my body almost feels like it’s battling a cold or something like that. The swollen lymph nodes in my neck were actually the most painful part of it all; so much so that for the first night, I could barely move my neck without pain, and had to resort to tiny finger massages to help relieve the feeling (and that in and of itself was very painful). But I got along well enough without needing painkillers, and I am soo grateful all those teeth are gone and I don’t have any more to remove! Thanks for everything, wizzies. It was…I dunno, it just WAS! I’m off for a delightful sundae cup. Yum.

But I miss my nice hot teas.

Q to you: have you ever been so unwilling to get re-numbed for a procedure that you simply kept still and dealt with whatever pain came your way? Let me know in the comments!



No more Ms. Mousian

Aaaand…I wasn’t satisfied with the free write, so here I am again. What can I say? When my writer side is awakened, not even a horse dose of Ambien can put it back to bed. I gotta wear this sucker out.

Doing this blog has, like I’ve mentioned repeatedly in my “voice memo thingies”, simply been an exercise in pushing the boundaries of what makes me comfortable. Adopting the title of “writer” is not something that has come easily. I rejected it for so very long because it seemed like it came with a lifestyle that wasn’t “naturally” mine, and one I was completely unwilling to take. Not to mention, it was something that was pushed on me at a very early age, and all my life I have resisted easy classification. I’d see my peers happily take on such limiting titles as “The Brain”, “The Jock”, “The Artist”, and I wanted absolutely no part of it. To me, it felt like taking one on would have a serious impact on what I would likely focus my attention on. If I was to take on a title, it was going to be one of my own choosing.

If you’re wondering, “What is this ‘writer lifestyle’ she was so scared of?” It was the lifestyle of a writer who was a compulsive composer, a slave to the written word, and mostly, one who shares his or her thoughts and passions easily- which I believed was the only writer to be. For a time it was very easy to hide my inner self behind pretty words or flowery sentences. But passion? That odd magnetism that drew pencils to my fingers and blank pages to my lap? I didn’t have what it took to reveal mine. Mine had to be protected from those invested in changing me into their ideal person. I was a mouse, overly concerned for my survival, when all the while I was safe in a cage, and everything I needed was in reach. I couldn’t risk anything, or at least, would only make the smallest risks, the only things my tiny mouse heart could bear.

And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of acting like a mouse, consumed by passion on the inside, but devoid of all signs of it on the outside. I’m tired of going with the thoughts that say, essentially, that there is no point in my expression. It’s like saying, “There’s no point to crying, because you’ve shed tears before”. “There’s no point to laughter, because you’ve filled a room with laughter before.” Or, “Others have wept and laughed better than you”. I want the “wow, I did that”. The one that only comes after the “wow, I can’t believe I did that”. This is part of that step.

Free writes

Up in the air

Free write

Today’s supposed to be a free write, but I am getting pretty distracted. Heh, actually, if you see most of the free writes in my journal, you’d think admitting this fact is a pre-requisite to getting started. Oh my gosh, my comp is playing an embarrassingly sensual song at the moment, and if I want to stay true to the free write, I can’t change it. Why in the heck does my kitchen smell like cantaloupe?

Oh dear. It’s hard to write when I’m laughing. And yes, I am one of those people who says “LOL” and means it. A fact that some of my friends on Skype have noted to me more than once. ‘sigh’ Whatever, I like it. And I want a piece of toast. I can smell it, plus that bizarre cantaloupe smell. Seriously, it’s been weeks since I had a cantaloupe. Yeah, I am slacking a little in pacing, so this isn’t a true free write. You can dock points later. The point is to go until…well, you know, I don’t put a time scheme on these things. It’s until I’m drying up or until my hands say, “I’m spasming. Cut it out.” Just might get there in a few seconds.

I confess, I “broke” the free write. It had to happen. Blah blah blah for no other reason but to get my mind and my fingers back into a rhythm. It’s just funny how the pattern of keys and clicking and up and down has an addictive quality. It’s something I almost long to feel when I’m writing my stories, better than fingers in the corner of my mouth, which indicate uncertainty, pause and consideration. But better than the smooth music of typing is the wonderful, “Aha!” that comes after pondering what in the heck to do next. Okay, now I’m realizing sometimes those fingers in the corner of my mouth are actually fingers playing with my bangs. It’s such a subconscious reaction; so often I’m not even aware I’m doing it. Soothing, I suppose.

Voice chats

Having fun with this

It’s actually true. Voice chats, and I actually had fun with it. It’s in two parts, as once I finished the first part I wasn’t quite done talking.

By the way, please bear with me if there are parts that get…mumbly. I speak very fast and sometimes it devolves into mumbling. I am trying to remember to speak more slowly (which I tend to forget once the giggles set in!) ‘sigh’


I want to fall asleep

My little eyes are at half staff. That’s usually a very clear sign to anyone who knows me well that I’m tired. It’s a pretty day. The clouds are oh so fluffy and inviting outside. You might think this is a free write, but I promise you it’s not.

I think there are different kinds of sleepiness for me. This is the “I’m Likely Going to Stay Like This Until I Give Into This or Force Myself to Get Moving” sleepiness. On the whole, pesty, but with a little effort, easy to shake off. If I want to put in the effort, that is.

Then there’s the “Sleep is Playing With Me” sleepiness, where without warning I can easily find myself having the most vivid dreams out of a few precious seconds of stolen sleep. (No, that’s not right; it’s not stolen sleep if you didn’t mean for it to happen. Whatever, I’m going with it.) When that happens, I feel like I’m bugging out on some kind of hallucinogen, so jarring and lively are my dreams. Funny thing is, those dreams are never anything very elaborate. I hear many voices speaking at once, tons of colors, and simple shapes, like triangles, squares, concentric circles, that sort of thing. It takes several minutes of slapping my face to totally shake that off.

I’ve also experienced “Painful Sleepiness”, where I will allow myself to sleep for a few seconds, and every teeny tiny sound will cause me to wake up like bombs are being dropped outside, jolts, jumps, and all. By the end of it my nerves are usually so jazzed that when I try to sleep in earnest, I need to force myself to stop believing I’m going to be freaked awake again. No fun. Whatsoever.

This morning I was visited by “I’ve Slept For Hours…No I Haven’t” sleepiness. I normally wake up some time around 7, and this morning I was awake at 6. So I did my best to get back to sleep, cuddling in, and managing to sleep. Then I woke, convinced I must have overslept. The clock said, “Only 5 minutes had passed”. So I try for sleep again. And soon I wake, again convinced that I’ve managed to doze the morning away. Which is true. I dozed three more minutes of the morning away. Grr. “Sorry, warm bed,” I apologize as I leave the covers, “dumb body has its clock wrong again.”

And at this very moment my “Get Moving” sleepiness is morphing into “I’m So Tired My Eyes Are Tearing And My Muscles Are Twitching, And If I Don’t Do Something IMMEDIATELY I Will Be A Zombie For The Rest of The Night.” Fine. Rooibos, here I come.

But, on second thought, the idea of being undead is suddenly becoming appealing. Think it’ll get me out of making dinner tonight? Couldn’t hurt to give it a try.


Free writes

Change in feelings

Free write

There was a time I would have said there was no give for the feeling of being this way, in love with being alive. Not for any save those who were born of this magic. Now, more and more, I am finding that changing. I have what it takes to let those who want to feel it, feel it, if they want to. Is this my motivator? Is this what keeps my fingers clacking against the keys day in and day out, even on those days when I am so uncertain of what I am doing? It can’t be about anything else, I don’t think. I’ve tried it all. I’ve tried obligation. I tried the expectations of others. I tried experimentation. I even tried doing it because I could. But inevitably it made progress require so much force out of me that I grew to hate it. I thought I hated writing. It seemed so slippery, something I needed all my will to do.

But within, and through all the years of forcing it, it was there. It always has, and, I suspect always will be. I am possessed of a love for expression, a love so strong it terrifies me and keeps me awake nights, breathless as I realize how much of a hold it has on me. And I love that feeling. Yet I admit it did isolate me. Only here and there in my life have I seen others gripped so strongly by this love. But now, I see we all can be. We’re just afraid of saying so, for some reason. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t know, frankly, if I’ll ever achieve the fearlessness I wish to have. But I do know I don’t want to let it stop me. I’ve been able to step over it before, and I can do it again. And again. And again. I can touch, just as I have been touched. I want to give others the love that the expressions of others have given to me. Because it’s so utterly wonderful.