Thoughts prompted by an internet article. Thanks internet.

 

This article, in fact.

One of my friends sent it to me and said it reminded her of some of the things my husband and I have gone through.

It is uncomfortably real. So I started writing a response back to her.

And, as I suspected, avoiding writing, and then starting to write about how I’m feeling free-form, isn’t really something JUST for her. It should go here.

So here it is.

“It’s clear that some of your thoughts are not socially acceptable. Your feelings are unsettling to people who have never been unsettled like you have. You hide your dangerous and silly and preposterous thoughts, burying them behind routines and small talk and forced smiles.”

There was another comment on a tumblr something along the lines of “The people who you like most in fiction are the ones who are most what you want to be” and someone jokingly said “Um. Should I be worried?”

I pondered it for awhile and, Hannibal came at a time where I DESPERATELY did not want to feel any more. That feeling things, other people’s emotions was just. too. hard. And naturally I wanted to associate with someone who does not give a crap about other people’s feelings.

Followed up by the “People will think you’re doing better than you are”

“People start asking you when you’re going to move on, asking you what’s next for you. What’s next? What’s new? And you’re stunned. You barely just figured out this. This huge, unwieldy, cumbersome burden that you’re still carrying, that’s still breaking you. Where other people expect you to be? You’re not there yet.”

The article talks about nightmares, etc. And that’s very true. I still have nightmares about losing my job. I still have nightmares about my husband being carjacked. They’re further apart.

AND OH GOD THE PROCRASTINATION. Like, moving forward is so exhausting you can’t even fathom it and going back is impossible because its a yawning chasm of impossibility and terrible moments waiting for you to fall in it.

I can tell you, that really, just in the last week, am I coming to terms with losing my job on top of everything else. One of the other people who was let go asked me how I could have been so calm when it all happened. And I tried to explain to her that, in the moment, I wasn’t even surprised. Because SO MANY terrible things have happened back to back that, naturally, this was the only thing that could happen. But I cannot BEGIN to tell you how angry I am. How angry I STILL am. Some days I’m so mad that its all I can do to just get out of the house and walk around until I’m too tired and cold to not be mad any more. I have fantasies of telling off the former director about how they ruined my life. I have fantasies of being on the witness stand at a trial of the gunman and blaming him for ruining my life and demanding that there is no release from prison for him because he is irredeemable.

And those things aren’t me. Or aren’t the “me” I’m used to. I’m not someone who lives with a fury bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to explode at a hapless victim. I’m not someone without mercy.

Except that I am. Because I feel like there has been no mercy for us, even though I know, logically, that we have been incredibly lucky. It is so INCREDIBLY frustrating. Because I want to keep talking about it, but when I sit down to write about it, its just an outpouring of rage that is both unfamiliar and distasteful and I’m so ashamed of it. Like I don’t have the right to be that angry or hurt or scared.

But I do. I have the right to it.  I have a right to being upset, to breaking down, to still being damaged and hurt.

And it talks about losing friends and gaining them.  And pushing them away.  There are times I cannot BEAR to be in the room with other people because I feel like these people, my friends, who I love, would be so horrified at the thoughts in my head and that they can see them.  That they can, somehow by looking at me, see what I’m thinking.

Its like a monster.  Or that I’m becoming a monster.  And I’m staring in the mirror and my reflection shows horns and fangs and a visage so awful that, were anyone to see it, they would run a stake through me or a silver bullet.

And its just because I’m hurt.  And I’m scared. And I’m trying so very hard to be capable and that I can fake it.  I can keep things together.  But if something goes wrong…even a little something.  That’s it.  I have nothing left for the day.

But none of these things are me.  These are the things that I have to be, right now, to survive.  Things are already starting to sort themselves out into new realities and experiences.  And, after having been through so much, I know the greatest cure is time.  I know enough now, to know that, despite how painful and hard things are right now that time WILL make it easier to live through and last through.

“Time takes it all whether you want it to or not, time takes it all. Time bares it away, and in the end there is only darkness. Sometimes we find others in that darkness, and sometimes we lose them there again.”

-Stephen King

But the thing is, I know that after the darkness comes the dawn.  After the longest night comes day.  After the winter comes the spring.  All of the goodness and reward will come after the pain and agony that comes before.  I just keep striving to find pockets of joy to hold out through the long winters night.

In the words of an old friend,

“Well.  It would seem I’ve just bared my soul to you… Trust is a horrible thing… [this] made me face some things I usually like to keep buried.  So I didn’t bare my whole soul to you  only the basement.  Where all the dark, dank secrets are held in dusty custody…I can’t quite sort things out half the time.. Mayhap you’ll have better luck.”

I feel better after moving all these basement boxes of emotions around.  I’ll come upstairs, curl up by the fire, and leave those boxes to their own devices for awhile until I don’t need to open them any more.

Love,

C

 

View story at Medium.com

The End of the Challenge

Where do we go from here?
Where do we go from here?
The battle’s done,
And we kind of won
So we sound our victory cheer

-Once More With Feeling: The Buffy the Vampire Slayer Music Where Do We Go From Here

Beginnings are much easier than endings.  I cannot tell you how many short stories I have started, only to get a few pages in…and stop.  I can start anything.  Ending it, though…its hard to have a good ending.  You want people to walk away feeling satisfied, having learned something, found the lesson…gotten their happy end.

I set out September 1 with a goal of trying to bring focus back into my life.  To do so, I set aside some challenges for myself…some serious…some not so serious.  For the last month I have made my bed every day (I do not get this…but I made it without thinking about it this morning…so who knows?  Maybe its not so much that you feel good, but you just manage to develop a good habit.) I’ve cleaned and packed more boxes, been more conscious about exercise (lost 5 lbs, still can’t spell “exercise”), set aside a little more money in savings…all in all…I followed the rules of the challenge, if not to the letter, true to the spirit in which it was sent.

These things did not make me happy.

They didn’t make me function better.

They made for a cleaner house and a more organized life…so…I suppose it did make things easier…

What really worked, though, what was most necessary, and, perhaps, the change I needed to make…is two fold.

First, I need to write every day.  It has been too long since I sat down and poured my heart out into writing.  This space is my confessional, my fantasies, my thoughts, my dreams…all in one spot.  Writing things down here, gets them out of my head and helps me not to dwell on something.  It also has served to show me that, even if I say nothing is wrong, if I use the dreaded word “Fine.” to describe how I’m feeling…I can’t really lie to myself.  And I can’t lie here.  My own words, my own pain, confronts me and it says “Being unhappy is ok, but at least be honest.”

Secondly, a month of anything isn’t going to fix every problem you have.  Things are still difficult.  We still haven’t even had a nibble on our house, problems seem to keep piling up around us.  I’m still more depressed and unfocused than I’ve ever been.

This all sounds really down…but it isn’t…because I learned a lot this month.

I learned to speak up when something hurt.

I learned that making your bed for a month seems like a futile action, but the dog will sure appreciate laying on your nice sheets.

I learned that weddings are the happiest and saddest events you’ll ever attend.

I learned you can be there for someone, without actually physically being there.

I learned that every crisis is not my own crisis.

I learned that just because you get older, doesn’t mean you grow up, doesn’t mean you have all the answers, or that you can fix everyone’s problems.

I learned that, even if you think pushing someone away is the right idea, you should probably try to keep them close…even if its hard.

I learned that you can still miss someone like it was yesterday, even if its been a decade.

I learned that paleo egg cups are delicious and I should make them more often.

And I learned that there are some friends who, when they see you suffering through challenges…

they decide to make their bed every morning, too.

They decide to do healthy lunches with you.

They decide to be your cheerleaders.

They read your blog every day.  And call you and check on you, and ask how you’re doing.

I have spent much of this month being wrapped up in my own pain.  Sometimes, it was like a dark cloud hanging over my head…and reading things about lost loves, and longings, and trials…it hurt my heart too much to even read them.

So.  This challenge is over.  I set out what I meant to accomplish, and I accomplished it.  Not for any pints of ice cream, not for any physical prize (though, if anyone wants to send me a prize for making my bed every day, I will quite happily accept.), but because I set out to do something, and I did it.

That is accomplishment enough.

And I’m going to keep writing.  That’s where I go from here.  I’ll write more things that hurt, more things that challenge me, more things that make me happy and more things that make me sad.

But I’m going to be honest.  That’s where the best stuff comes from.

To you, my friends, who read this every day for the challenge, I thank you.  You don’t know what it means to me to know you care.  And I’ll try and be a better friend.

One of my friends reminded me of something I said earlier this month “You talked about how its easy to say you’d make some grand gesture of friendship or love or sacrifice…and you said how its easy to say that you’d do that…but there’s no room for grand gestures in this world any more.  Instead…you make the small gestures…and in that…I guess you’re a hero.

I will be a hero of small gestures.  I’ll be a hero of little words and actions.  And the first thing a hero faces…after leaving home on the journey…is their fears.

So as we head into October, I will talk about scary things…and funny things.  Horror and comedy are sides of the same coin, you know.  I’ll tell funny stories of moments where I was afraid…and scary stories…and things that frighten you in the night…and why I’ve overcome them.  And why I’m still afraid.

Stock up on apple cider, make sure your cobwebs are artfully arranged in the dark and dusky corners of your home.  Scour your brain for all those secret fears.  We’ll talk about them here and in the night…perhaps we’ll find there’s less to be afraid of than we thought before.

Love,

-C

“When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn’t make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares still walking. When we hold each other we feel not safe, but better. “It’s all right” we whisper, “I’m here, I love you.” and we lie: “I’ll never leave you.” For just a moment or two the darkness doesn’t seem so bad.” 

― Neil Gaiman

Day 28: Changes

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.
Delicious Ambiguity.”
― Gilda Radner

How many of your friends have you kept?

1? 2?  Maybe 3-4?

Why did you keep them?  Was it because of how they talked to you?  How you laughed when you were together?  Because of their strength?  How they challenged you?

Or how they changed you?

One of my friends uses the phrase “The struggle is real.”  So I’ve picked it up.  And its hilarious, when used in an appropriate ironic context. (first world problems, etc…)  And I listen…and I hear it spread across the office…and its like listening to a friendship form.  Your friends add words to your vocabulary, phrases to your life, and adventure.

If you have found a good friend, you will not remain unchanged.  A good friend will challenge you when you’re wrong.  A good friend will be there to pick you up when you’re down, or if you don’t think you can ever get up again.  A good friend will, in your moment of despair, make you eat your dinner…make you go for a walk…tell you that one thing you never knew you needed to hear.

They’ll say it.  And you’ll sigh and be happy because finally someone understood.  They got it.  They knew WHY you needed to hear something.  They know the difference between “You look hot” and “You look beautiful.”  Between “You’re a good friend” and “You’re my best friend.”

With the best of friends, time, distance, they don’t matter.  They’ll find their way back to you.  Friends don’t leave another friend behind.  You are better for the friends you have made.  You don’t deserve the friends you have, any more than they deserve you.  Rather, you have the kinds of friends that you have been.  Be the friend you’re looking for.  Be the shoulder to cry on, be the confidence they may lack, be the strength when someone is weak, and be the love that they need…and that they might not be able to say.

Be kind.  Love your friends.  Be thankful for them.

In the words of Guardians of the Galaxy “I have lived most of my life surrounded my enemies. I will be grateful to die among my friends.”

To a less dire extent…I am grateful to be surrounded by my friends.

Physical Health:

Hours of Sleep: 9 hours.  That’s MUCH better

Exercise: Lifting the lawn mower, mowing said lawn, up hills…booooo

Breakfast: southwestern egg scramble

Health

Cleaning or Packing?: Mowed the lawn…mowed alllllll of the lawn.  And trimmed bushes.  Without electrocution, thank you!

Made my bed?:  2 more days!

Read 1 book a week:Not sure what to start with next…its starting to get crisp and fall-y outside…hmmmm…tba

Conclusion

“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
― Elbert Hubbard

Love,

C

Day 26 & 27: The end is near

“When you’re a kid, they tell you it’s all… grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid, and that’s it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It’s so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better.”
― Elton Pope

I’ve got 2 challenge days left.  I feel like I both should have learned a lot more this month, and that I learned a lot.  But 30 days is only enough time for so much.

And time…time seems to be a premium.

Last July, my Nana died.  She was a beautiful, snarky, classy lady.  And this was the catalyst for…a lot of things.  Death of a loved one shows you a lot about how people respond to stress…and some people respond very well…and some people…don’t.

So we went through her things…cleaning out the whole house, per my grandfather’s request.  And I found myself taking home things, that, while they didn’t have a lot of meaning for me…I didn’t want them to be “homeless.”  I was assigning sentiment to objects…giving them feelings…when really, they were things I was feeling instead.

I wish I could tell you there was one specific thing that I took and now I treasure and its a lasting memory…but there are too many.  I took a pair of vintage fashion prints because I remember looking up at them from the bed in the guest room and making up stories about who the ladies were, and why they wore their dresses…what they were talking about.  When we went to go through the house to starting taking things…I couldn’t believe no one wanted them.  They were so cool, how could no one want them?

They just didn’t mean anything to them.

I also got a fair amount of vintage costume jewelry for the same reason…and its a nice piece of her to have….

And I guess, while I was watching Doctor Who there’s a lot of talk of what we leave behind, what it means, and what stories people will remember us by.  I’ll remember a tall, graceful women with elegant style and a quick wit.  And I tell stories about her and other people will remember her.  I’m not quite sure where this all goes, but I think I’m mostly trying to…to do things to be remembered?  That I will leave a legacy of stories…and I’m just trying to write it all done.

Physical Health:

Hours of Sleep: 4 hours.  Stayed up TOOOOOO late talking with friends.  But you need to talk to your friends sometimes.

Exercise: I rage gardened.  I may have severed the extension cord with the hedge trimmer much to the dismay of my husband.  Oops.

Breakfast: omlet, sausage, toast, and some glorious pumpkin french toast

Health

Cleaning or Packing?: Soooooo many dishes,…sooooo many coffee mugs

Made my bed?:  After much discussion with a friend who was doing this with me we have come to the conclusion that this is pointless and does nothing for us.  But I did it yesterday AND today (even though I did it today at 6 pm I did it.)

Read 1 book a week:ended up reading Let’s Pretend this Never Happened by Jenny Lawson because I needed a book that would cheer me up.

Conclusion

I’ll be a story in your head. That’s okay. We’re all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? ‘Cause it was, you know. It was the best.

-Doctor Who

-C

Day 24: Something to Hold On To

“It was beautiful not despite but because of the friction it has had to endure. It had been thrashed around, but instead of being destroyed, it was improved with every scratch and scrape, sculpted. In fact, the scuffs themselves are what gave it its quiet splendor; they are responsible for turning a simple piece of glass (which could have just as easily been trash) into a gem. It wouldn’t be the same without the wear and tear; it wouldn’t be something pretty enough to be turned into jewelry if it hadn’t been damn near broken. I closed my fist around this tear-shaped gem and thought about my own uneven edges, my own abrasions, and things I have endured that have, instead of breaking me, completed me, prepared me for the next tumble. Its odd beauty was hard-won. It came from reinventing itself. From having risen to the top of the discard pile. Like a phoenix, from victim to victor. (325)”
― Wendy Blackburn, Beachglass: A Novel

My first forensics competition scared me to death.  I’d always loved playing pretend.  When I was little, I’d do something called “The Never Ending Play” which was basically me, putting on one of my mom’s old bridesmaids dressing and insisting I was a princess and putting on a play.  All. Day.

Is anyone surprised my major was acting and performance?

So for my first competition I’d worked and worked on my piece and I knew it inside and out, but I was anxious and scared.  My mom said she knew what would help and she went to her jewelry box (an exciting and sacred place) and pulled out a small ring.

“Your dad gave this to me when we started dating.  You can wear it for luck.”

And throughout the day, whenever I was scared or nervous, I’d play with the ring on my finger and it felt like my mom was up there with me.

Thus began a tradition, whenever I performed or had an important test to take, I’d have a special piece of jewelry.  When I graduated from 8th grade I got a small gold ring with a tiny oval sapphire and an even tinier little diamond.  During high school, when I performed in music competitions, I’d wear it…or borrow an antique pin from my Oma.

There was something immensely comforting about having that on me at all times.  Because when you go up to the front of the room, stand in front of the judge, your mom can’t be there.  But you’re wearing her ring, so she’s there.  You’re wearing your own ring, lovingly chosen by your family, and they’re all there with you too.  How can you be afraid?

When things are rough, I treat jewelry as a talisman…a touchstone.  I can feel the comforting weight of my anniversary pendant around my neck and know my husband is thinking of me.  This is why jewelry is one of the most precious of gifts to me.  Not for its monetary value…but as something I can hold to when things are bad.  Its tangible.

Even the kiss for luck on your lips fades after a few moments.

A hug will only warm you briefly and then you have to march into battle.

But something small…even a tiny heart on a chain…you can touch it…and its like touching them.

By the same token, I feel strongly about letters.  I still write them and they’re important to me because they are words you can hold.  Even if someone tells you something, it only goes in your memory.  Memories can change if you run them through your mind enough times…better a letter…that can’t change.

Among my treasured possessions, is a postcard I got during a difficult time.  I’ve kept it on my desk in a crappy plastic frame (so I can read the back) since 2004.

“Its terrible to watch good people suffer, especially over something they love.  Don’t let yourself become a bitter cynic, there are already too many of us as it is and we need the optimists to stay sane.”

 When I feel discouraged, or if I feel stagnant and unsure of what I’m doing…I can hold that note, run my fingers over the letters and words and its real.

I still have all my love letters from high school…and there’s almost a magic to them with the strange and new passion in them.

Unlike a phone call or a conversation, a written declaration of love is a thing; a thing which exists in the world (often for a very long time) with the power to conjure up an emotional disposition, which is why, on occasion, we ask for them back, destroy them, prevent people from publishing them or keep them.

-Four Letter Word Joshua Knelman and Rosalind Porter

The positive side of the above is, like jewelry…you can hold and touch it.  In moments of doubt or when you’re alone, you have something to reach to, hold to.

Its something of a joke that save all of my emails and that I’m saving them in case I need them as evidence.

The thing is, I do need them as evidence.  I need them to remember encouragement in difficult times.  I need them to remember moments in time.  I need them to remember who I used to be and who my friends used to be.  Sometimes you can get so much from an old conversation…and sometimes it can show you how much you’ve changed.

I had been talking to one of my lovely coworkers about what she wanted for her birthday and she said “A card, with words of love and affirmation.” I respect her very much in that she was serious.  No gifts…just words..written down to be saved forever.

I have saved every letter I’ve gotten from a friend.  I go back to them and remember that the person who wrote me, sat down and took the time to do it.  And what a wonderful gift to receive…that someone would sit down, take the time, and write you about why you’re a great friend, or why they’re happy to know you…or just that they were thinking of you.

That note is a talisman too.  It may not protect you from all the evils in this world, but if you’re up in front of that difficult room, or feeling like your alone…just reach out and touch those words…your friends are with you.

Physical Health:

Hours of Sleep: 7.5 hours

Exercise: All the stairs.  In very cool heels.  Which, while attractive, was a terrible decision.

Breakfast: apple, babybel mini cheese, almonds

Health

Cleaning or Packing?: Cleaned up old grocery bags, picked up a bunch of boxes for packing

Made my bed?:  Sheer stubbornness is winning out on this.

Read 1 book a week: Four Letter Word by Joshua Knelman & Rosalind Porter.

Conclusion

“Stories, like people and butterflies and songbirds’ eggs and human hearts and dreams, are also fragile things, made up of nothing stronger or more lasting than twenty-six letters and a handful of punctuation marks. Or they are words on the air, composed of sounds and ideas-abstract, invisible, gone once they’ve been spoken-and what could be more frail than that? But some stories, small, simple ones about setting out on adventures or people doing wonders, tales of miracles and monsters, have outlasted all the people who told them, and some of them have outlasted the lands in which they were created.”
― Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

If you have a friend, write them a letter.  I promise you, you won’t regret it, they’ll be pleasant surprised and you’ll make their day.  Better still to say you were thinking about them.  Best, tell them why you love them.  Tell them something they said to you that built you up.

And if you need to go into battle…wear your mother’s ring or your grandmother’s pin…who can be against you when those you love are by your side?

-C

Day 23: Quick Post

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .””
— C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves)

Quick post because I was too busy having fun last night to post (oh darn…)

I have such fantastic friends.  These are some reasons why:

(preface, I play in a classical quartet that plays pop music in a classical style)

Actual conversation:

R: Carry On My Wayward son, it sounds so…quaint

Me: Yes, Carry on my wayward son with hoop and stick.

-Finding out you are NOT the only person who likes the middle cinnamon roll in a circle of cinnamon rolls the best

-Talking with someone like it was just yesterday instead of weeks, months, or years ago

-dreaming about your friends and their responses to things and then, waking up, to find when you retell the dream they have the exact same response

-Getting together to watch Sweeney Todd and the first, and most important, discussion is what to eat

-telling you, honestly, they were worried about you

-laughing for hours at a stupid joke from 2002

-spending an afternoon texting back quotes from Guardians of the Galaxy

Physical Health:

Hours of Sleep: 7 hours.  Much better.  I really need between 7-9 hours of sleep.

Exercise: Stairs, stairs, stairs (thanks meetings, meetings, meetings)

Breakfast: Breakfast pizza 2: breakfast boogaloo

Health

Cleaning or Packing?: I’ve found, easily, I can end up spending half an hour on dish-related activities.

Made my bed?:  Did it.  Cannot wait for this challenge aspect to be complete.

Read 1 book a week: Four Letter Word by Joshua Knelman & Rosalind Porter.

Conclusion

I get by with a little help from my friends.

-The Beatles

I think next month’s theme will either be scary stories I’ve enjoyed or reasons I’m thankful for something.  The crossover will be confusing and delightful.

-C

Day 22: You remind me of someone…

Emperor Churchill: You mentioned a woman.
The Doctor: Yes. I’m getting to her.
Emperor Churchill: What’s she like? Attractive, I assume.
The Doctor: Hell. In high heels.
Emperor Churchill: Tell me more.

-Doctor Who, episode The Wedding of River Song

Lately, my friends and I have been playing an email game, for conversation, about what character you are from TV shows or books or movies.  Why its proved interesting is that it tells you something about yourself, about how others see you, and how they see themselves.  If you’re not a Whovian OR Trekker/Trekkie, not all of this will make sense to you, but I’ll try to bring it around.

We started with a conversation about what Star Trek Captain you were most like.  So for myself I said that I thought I was most like Janeway, trying to keep my crew together under difficult circumstances, far from home and without as much of a support system.  Some agreed, but the majority said Captain Kirk because “willing to punch both the prime directive and the temporal directive in the face to do what you think is right and to protect your crew. And a real visceral love of life and adventure.” and my dad “you’ll follow the rules up to the point they don’t make sense, then you’re going to do what you think is right.”

This conversation continued with which Doctor from Doctor Who (recent Who, Eccleston and on)

I changed the question, though.  I asked “Who do you present to the world verses who do you think you are.”  The responses for who I present were very much The Eleventh Doctor: quirky, fun, whimsical with a childlike sense of wonder…and then, the outlier…and probably more accurate than I care to admit.

9th Doctor.  To which I responded, really? (9th is kind of dark) “he has an almost maniacal sense of humor and life…but its concealing a deep hurt and scar over the past, what has happened to him, and choices he’s made.”

Of course I was taken aback, I mean, that’s a lot for someone to read on you.  Then I thought about it, and its true.  Its closer to who I am on the inside.  But The Eleventh is very much who I want to be on the outside.

Which brings us, to River Song.  She’s a complicated character.  Basically, we got to talking about it because we’re going to a party in December where we’ll need to cosplay as Doctor Who characters.  And everyone was unanimous in that I have to be River Song.

River Song is a female adventurer, wife of The Doctor, lady Indiana Jones…living her life and her love forward as the love of her life starts knowing everything about her and, by their final meeting, doesn’t know anything about her.  She’s strong, interesting, and ultimately, tragic.  And, in the words of Firefly she’s “A big damn hero.”

And I noticed that a lot of my friends.  They put me in that spot.  And I thought about that.  I thought about the weakness I’ve been feeling, the sorrow, the weight of it all.  And I thought about River Song.  Hell.  In High Heels.

We all need something to pull us out of the doldrums…and what better than internalizing an interesting, strong, complex, character who has her own heartbreak but makes heroic choices.  Who goes head to head with one of the smartest people in the galaxy…and knows more than him.  Who, when asked about what’s going to happen tosses a cheeky smile back at him and says “No…spoilers, sweetie.”

That my friends…that’s the kind of person I need in my corner right now.  River Song sees a lot, she loses, not only the man she loves, but sees him loose his memory of her, of everything they’ve done.  She is doomed to know everything, but cannot share, doomed to see the solution, but unable to change much of it, and cursed to know how it must end.

She’s sad.  Seeing all these things, how could you not be sad?  But she sneaks out and dances, she flies into battle like a warrior queen with a grin on her face.  Yeah, if I’m going to find someone as an inspiration right now…she’s ok.  A little of her, a little classic Kirk.  Maybe I’ll just break my own rules of self-imposed sadness…and see where we go from there.

Physical Health:

Hours of Sleep: 6.5 hours…stress leads to nightmares leads to an unfortunate lack of sleep.  I’m going to bed early tonight, trying to make up for it.

Exercise: I have 2 exercise free days left.  Totally taking one today.  One left and 7 days to go!

Breakfast: Breakfast pizza.  Breakfast of champions

Health

Cleaning or Packing?: Washed a bunch of dishes, organized some clothes…cleaned out a bunch of emails, actually, so I’m going to count that too.

Made my bed?:  I threw the covers back on the bed and fluffed the pillows.  I will count this as making it.

Read 1 book a week: Four Letter Word by Joshua Knelman & Rosalind Porter.

Conclusion

The Doctor: Oh, this is my friend River. Nice hair, clever, and has her own gun. And unlike me, she really doesn’t mind shooting people. I shouldn’t like that. Kinda do, a bit.
River: Thank you, sweetie.

Doctor Who, episode Day of the Moon

River: You. Me. Handcuffs. Must it always end this way?
The Doctor: What now?
River: The prison ship’s in orbit. They’ll beam me up any second. I might have done enough to earn a pardon this time. We’ll see.
The Doctor: Octavian said you killed a man.
River: Yes, I did.
The Doctor: A good man.
River: A very good man. The best man I’ve ever known.
The Doctor: Who?
River: It’s a long story, Doctor. Can’t be told, has to be lived. No sneak previews. Well, except for this one: You’ll see me again quite soon, when the Pandorica opens.
The Doctor: The Pandorica. [laughs] [Leans in to River Song and whispers in her ear] That’s a fairy tale.
River: [laughs] Oh, Doctor. Aren’t we all? [smiles] I’ll see you there.

– Doctor Who, episode Flesh and Stone

I have fantastic hair, I’m clever…time and space can’t stop me from doing what’s right by my friends, I’m a fantastic flirt, and mad, bad, and dangerous to know.  If you can’t believe you friends, who can you believe? I’ll take it!

-C