Bed Full of Phoenix

Holy Shit: Have I expressed how much I love Phoenix? I love Phoenix. If I could have intercourse with sound, I’d be fucking Phoenix.¬†¬†Just look at them. And the music is exponentially sexier and more amazing than they look. And they are actually better live than in recordings, which is ridiculous considering how perfect the tracks are. Yes, I’ll take a bed full of Phoenix please.

Last Saturday: Went to Mount Pony, Library of Congress and watched Pulp Fiction with Mack and Josh.

Last Monday: Mack came over and went to Mary. Then we went to State Theater for Harlem Gospel Choir.

Last Week: Mack stayed for a while because of snow. I had snow days the entire week last week.

Yesterday: Snow day.

This Tuesday: Niece’s going away party.

Today: Swimming with the kids for Winter Sports and Silvertone Swing Band at State Theater.

Tomorrow: Josh’s 26th birthday party.

Sunday: May help Mack move into her new room.

Update: I am depressed. I am reckless. I am craving adventure: sexuality, danger, and art. Maybe combine the three. I know how, but it’s against the rules. I don’t know how to keep the two versions of myself alive. I have a new self named The Reverend. Well, you know about The Reverend from the song I wrote earlier this month. But there are definitely two distinct other versions of me. I should give them all names so that it is easier to figure out which is which and maybe how to manage them.


Just Notes

Haven’t had to teach in five days. Another snow day tomorrow. I have been watching Downton Abbey, cleaning/organizing, studying, relaxing with Samita, and hosting Macky-J.

As you may know, I teach at a private school. The school is in major debt after separation from its associated church. With the deadline for a ridiculous sum of money due in February, the future of the school does not look bright. With my employment up in the air, I have latched onto the idea of possible starting a photography business.

I am not a photographer. I have never run a business outside of my private guitar instruction. But I live by the ballsy assumption that I can do anything. Young, idealistic, idiotic? Perhaps. My biological father always said, “To assume makes an ass of ‘u’ and me.” Regardless, this assumption has served me well thus far, and I plan to continue under its sway.

I was thinking of possibilities. Boudoir, photo booth, portrait, landscape, dimensional photography, freelance news-related. I hope to research and expound upon these ideas in the very near future.

Listening to Vangelis and Emile Pandolfi.

A Sea of Me

Neiko Ng {fantastic!}

I am a negative thinker. I am fully aware that my disorder contributes to this frame of mind, but I want to learn to be positive. In response to my Train Engine post, I’d like to now compare myself to this image of scuba divers reaching whimsically beautiful depths.

Progress has meant confrontation of painful memories, hurt, loss, and darkness. But I hope that as I delve deeper into myself and push harder toward my goal of self-empowerment and feeling good, I will find something beautiful within me.

Just as these divers are swimming past the darkness to the diverse, life-filled, pretty sea floor, I want to push through this darkness to discover my creative, life-filled, positive self.

The ocean has always terrified me – a great, powerful force of unknowns. Confronting my disorder terrifies me too – another great, powerful force of unknowns. While the sea holds giant creatures, murderous currents, and seemingly endless expanses of hopeless loneliness, my insides hold giant hurts, murderous currents of thought, and seemingly endless expanses of hopeless loneliness.

While afraid of the sea, I am fascinated by sea life – diverse, intricate, mysterious, and withholding so much power over mankind. Only twice have I ventured to dive into the sea to observe and swim as a part of the sea life, and while I was terrified of the sea, I felt such awe, thrill, and revival. In the same way, I am fascinated by the good parts of me. I hope that despite my fear of confronting this disorder, I will dive in and discover awe, thrill, and a revival of person, soul, and spirit.

Train Engine

Stay safe on an Indian train journey ....

I am this train engine. All of the people I take care of are the Indian people. All of my responsibilities and trauma are the cars of the train.

I have a rabbit in my bathtub. I’m fostering it until Mack is ready to take him home on Monday.

I woke up on Wednesday morning with unexplained, large, painful bruising all over my left leg. Mary says it’s a reaction to the medication of which I was taking 1/6 of the recommended lowest dosage.

I am doing well in my LUO classes. I have earned A’s on all assignments thus far and have submitted all assignments ahead of the deadline.

Mack tried to do herself in again on Wednesday night. She stayed with us last night and visited Mary this morning. I look forward to the day that Mackenzie feels better – feels happy, secure, confident, content – and that I don’t have to worry about losing my very best friend.

I slept through the night last night and did not have any nightmares or night terrors. I am still emotionally and physically exhausted, but I feel that I’m making progress.

Mary told me yesterday that I need to let myself be angry. I want to let myself be angry, but I am afraid of how that anger will manifest itself in my life.

I trimmed my fingernails as short as possible to prevent myself from tearing up my hands. Results are progressing as intended.

Full faculty/staff meeting at 8:30 AM Tuesday. We should know more about fate of the school then.

Studying psychology. Think I need to find ways to get my body into parasympathetic mode more often that not.

Finding A Happy Place


I am here. Bare feet. Loose black panted jumper. Hair down and clean. Clean face, clear skin. Moisturized with peppermint lotion. Smells like wheat and honeysuckle and pine. Temperature is perfectly situation within light warmth. Fresh air. Slight, dreamy breeze. Music is just there, in the air, coming from nowhere but in perfect quality. It’s playing my favorite songs from Phoenix, Foster the People, Vampire Weekend, Arctic Monkeys. I can breath the music into my body and feel it living in my heart. Powerful. I can walk here. Stopping, lying in the grasses and ferns, and they feel like a fuzzy blanket. A cool spot. Time doesn’t exist. I have no pressure or demands. I am free. No agenda. I know that my beautiful home is nearby clean and purged of excess. I know that my husband and my Mack are back at the house waiting to continue the picnic, but they’re in no rush. Bang-bang shrimp, chicken Marsala with mashed potatoes and mushrooms, and macadamia nut brownie in raspberry sauce over vanilla ice cream are in beautiful bowls next to a hammock beneath shade trees and surrounded by flowers and herbs. But I just lay, arms stretched out, legs stretched out, deep breaths, happiness. This is my happy place.

“You Shouldn’t Feel That Way.”

chloe sevigny.Although a brief hiatus, this one has spanned what feels like a lifetime to me. Papa died. We’ve spent this past week eating and planning with family, performing a funeral, and indulging in celebratory fellowship. On top of this, I have been teaching and learning as a full time educator and full time student. I am exhausted.

In addition to mourning, celebrating, and singing, I have been dreading myself, my memories, my nightmares, the constant urge to stab myself in the chest. Morbid, I know, but real nonetheless. PTSD flairs. That painful place underneath the sternum throbs. And one question among many continues to repeat: Why can’t I be treated like any other person with a disability?

That sounds very self-pitying. Very pathetic. Very whiny. But really? I hear this all of the time: “You shouldn’t feel that way.” Would you say to someone with cancer or nerve damage or a muscular disorder who cries in pain, “You shouldn’t feel that way”? I am physically challenged not only by my body, but by my soul and mind. Please, do not tell me I shouldn’t feel the pain, the agony, by which I am plagued. Encourage me. Love on me. Support me. Do not chastise me.

I have a long week of work ahead of me considering the forces against me. I am making it a goal to give myself TLC each night.

Favorite Thinking

Daily Prompt: Simply the Best

When and where do you do your best thinking? In the bathroom? While running? Just before bed, or first thing in the morning? On the bus? Why do you think that is?


‘Best’? I do my best productive thinking after I’ve been lazy for a while and then take a bath and eat something delicious and feel rested and ready to go. I do my best negative thinking after I am in an unclear social situation. I do my best practical thinking after updating our budget and organizing the office (a bi-weekly event). I do my overall best (as in personal favorite) thinking when I sink into that perfect state of enlightened oblivion/bliss. It takes hours of saturation in music, art, my favorite clothes and shoes, and a wave of self-confidence and/or personal intrigue.

When rested, I think productive. When depressed, I think negative. When productive, I think practical. When in my favorite state of mind, I do my favorite thinking. Although an independent person, I am hyper-sensitive to situation. I adapt. I think as I do.

I would like to find a way to stay in my favorite state of mind more often, but it takes all pieces of my mental state to keep me going. So while I’d love to live in my inner creative oblivion, my productive, negative, and practical selves provide my livelihood and keeps my creative side sane.