February Stars

I love that song--"February Stars." I never was a fan of the Foo Fighters and never will be, but I'll always love that song.

I got the break I needed as Steve and I gallivanted throughout central Texas this past weekend. Stops included Luckenbach, Comfort, Kerrville, LBJ Homestead/Johnson City, Pedernales State Park, and a glorious evening spent in Fredericksburg. That is, if I can block out of my mind the gargantuan slab of unforgiveness, covered by a bedspread, that we were forced to sleep upon. I came home and sweet-talked my own crappy mattress for a half hour after that one.

I was hit by a strong sense of disconnection with the world on Monday, and something as simple as a tenderly beautiful dream that upon awakening dashed my hopes so much that it shot me into a funk that lasted until...well, I still have it, actually.

I mean there are always niggling things on my mind that I don't voice and probably should, but I have to say...I'm thinking I may have to make a physical change with my BCPs. Some folks say that Ortho Tri-Cyclen should be called "Ortho Try-Psycho," and I've been having issues with mine on a physical and maybe emotional level for the past three months.

I got a full eight hours' sleep last night, and I intend to this evening as well. Things are super-busy at work, and I'm trying to maintain a schedule that allows me to eat, grocery-shop, work out with Gretchen, relax, hone my brain, and work on music articles. So far I'm doing most of that but not as much writing and definitely not as much enjoyable brain-honing as I want. I wish I could be as wonderfully puttery as Steve and delve more deeply into books and music as much as I'd like. I'm happy to know him partially because he inspires me to do so and because he does it himself. But somehow it always seems my hours get eaten away so that I always have to go to sleep, or clean up after myself, or do something else that needs doing.

My personality confounds me sometimes. It's such a weird mixture of obsessively detailed and and artily, snarkily free-floating. Here's a prime example: I make up a detailed list (sometimes I even break the items down into approximate time frames it would take to complete them and write this next to each one). On the list is written things like "do three pages of Da Vinci exercises", "work out with Gretchen", "work on flyer for so-and-so's band", "take shower", "plan tomorrow's outfit (so I don't have to get up early and make decisions)"; "read a book." After having made the list, I sit there and stare at it a while. I then half-heartedly do a couple of the things on the list and then I get irritated with myself that I'm even making up a list of things to do, and more irritated and pissy that my own relaxation is being 'scheduled.' Then I rebel against my own authority and go play SIMS or hop on Myspace for an hour or two. I'd ground me if I thought it would do any good.

Of course, as everything in my life, it's only a phase that I go through. The next week I'm 'work bunny' or 'play bunny' again. I've ocasionally wondered if I'm manic/depressive but I've been told adamantly and categorically by multiple trained mental professionals that I'm nothing of the sort and have in fact no identifiable neurotic or psychotic issues. I don't *really* believe I have that anyway, but this cyclical rotation can make me feel like a wee piebald hamster in the plastic ball of life.

I think I'm going to go get some sleep now, and maybe tomorrow after big ol' work day number 81, I'll come home and work on my article after another little go at the gym (I'd like to repeat what I did tonight sans the abdominal exercises).

Mostly, however, I'd like to see myself post on a blog something that I'm interested in that doesn't have anything to to do with my life except that it's an idea or concept that I'm interested in. Wouldn't that be a nice change? I think so ,too.

In the long run, my goal is to get rid of my little long face. I deserve happiness, by golly!