Cuppa Two
Ahh, the coffee tastes god awful. Mmm. I sure drank it down fast. Started the decaf pot brewing, so after three cups I can go unleaded.
You know what? It is quiet, I'm tired, caught up on high priority work, so I don't feel a need to work on things while my mind is fuzzy. Over all, not what you would call a riveting moment. Crap filled mittens! I just discovered I left the can of mixed nuts at home. I'll have to go over to the cafeteria sooner for some protein. Fruit doesn't sate hunger for very long without something a little more substantial. I'm having fun. Bizarre, or is it? I'm pontificating, listening to music, and just enjoying, well being. Pretty goddamn cool. I wish the same for everyone, no I pray. It would solve a lot of the societal problems about which I'll be venting about. I'm just not in a venting mood yet.
In three weeks, maybe a little sooner I'll be starting rehearsals for The Cherry Orchard. Tomorrow after I pick up the good motorcycle from the shop I'll be heading to Elliot Bay Book Company to see if they have a copy of the script, either the Frayn (who wrote Noises Off) translation which we'll be using or the Rocamora translation Rachel recommended. I started a new class at Freehold and monologue coaching. Nearly ready to start pushing my theatre idea again. It sure feels good to be getting back into the swing.
Still, I don't feel it explains this sense of well-being. Neither do I think the lovely Spring weather is to blame. I'm not complaining mind you. I'm not sure whether I'm once again gleefully rolling in cosmic fertilizer over the seeming permanent change to my outlook or just puzzled. Maybe I should just go with it, and continue listening to opera (Maria Callas), Dory Previn, Jimmy Stafford, Queen, Adam Ant, George Thorogood, et al.
I've been thinking of my mother the last couple weeks. Not constantly, just a few minutes here and there. I saw her for the first time in over two years on Christmas. She decided to play the suicide game, and I had told her should she ever do that I'd write her off. I was thinking about, though not as much as you might think. Even when she did it I waited a couple months before saying farewell. There was some anger in me, which is why I gave it some time. I couldn't envision ever wanting her in my life again. Still can't. The anger is gone, and as it faded so did any hope of having a healthy mother-son relationship. I was concerned at some level lurked a desire to get back at her. I'm sure it was there no matter how little I was aware of it.
There is no feeling of urgency to maintain distance from my maternal parent, neither is there any to connect. Indifference is the opposite of connection. I know it is a sad thing to be indifferent about a parent, to know their death would not move you much, if at all. Yes, I know it is sad, but only logically, it does not move me. I've been thinking about that, in a dispassionate way. I just realized I don't need to avoid her any longer, as I would not give her power over me again. Neither do I need to seek her out.
Good news, I found my Planter's can. I put it in the wrong drawer. I'll still need a meal, but it'll hold me for a bit, and keep the appetite in line so I'm not tempted to get too much.
Injury report:
The leg still slows me down at times. Last night I wanted to go to a show, I even rode the motorcycle to work so I could get downtown and find parking easier. By the end of the day I just wanted to go home. Bummer, Paula and I were hoping to see a show, but we made plans to get together on Sunday. I miss going downtown all the time and seeing Paula and Steve. They haven't got dependable wheels at the moment, and we do like getting together regularly when we aren't working on shows.
I can see glimmering at the end of the tunnel. I know the day when I can walk without pain is in the future, and not all that far off. Without any discomfort or limp, maybe a little further off. In some ways it seems like "only two months?", others like I have never had a good right leg. Ironic because I've done damage to the left leg several times in the past. Severely sprained knee and surgery in junior and senior high. Severe sprain in basic training putting me on hold for six weeks, followed by an extremely severe sprain three weeks later putting me on hold for another fifteen weeks. Then a motorcycle crash two and a half years ago, snapping part of the quadriceps. The left leg didn't feel weaker, but it was just slightly smaller in girth. I guess this is old lefty's big chance to catch up.
The way I like to tuck my legs under the chair intermittently. The way I like to position and curl my legs when I'm sleeping. Normal things. I'm starting to do those now, though comfort becomes an issue with healing and rebuilding of the atrophied parts. It is an interesting, amazing, and somehow exciting process which I hadn't noticed from past injuries. Thanks to the type of theatre training I've pursued I've become aware of my body and comfortable in it. I still want to lose weight, but the shame is gone along with the conviction I'm ugly. I see pictures of myself now and it doesn't bother me. Yet somehow looking at pictures from my college or navy years surprises me. I wasn't ugly, actually I was a damn good looking young fellow. Where did that skewed perception come from? It is funny, humorously so now. I don't consider myself ugly now, but some part of me is still surprised when I see pictures showing me as young and handsome. Retrograde baggage? Despite my positive self-image now, my memories of the past are still flavored by the self-image I had then.
Interesting where healing takes your musings. I was really pissed off Thursday, when I felt a need to give myself more rest. I'd rather socialize than convalesce. Healing quickly is the better option -- delayed gratification. Oh, bugger all, I will be happy when the leg is not central to my social life, day job, and theatre work. They say itching is a sign of healing. Well, my spirit itches like a freaking demon right now. I can walk easily without the cane, but I'll stick with it for a while yet. I helps me to walk with a straight posture and to use full movement in the bum leg. Again, delayed gratification, which I expect will allow me to walk without a limp that much sooner.
[ Actual time of post 3:00AM ]
You know what? It is quiet, I'm tired, caught up on high priority work, so I don't feel a need to work on things while my mind is fuzzy. Over all, not what you would call a riveting moment. Crap filled mittens! I just discovered I left the can of mixed nuts at home. I'll have to go over to the cafeteria sooner for some protein. Fruit doesn't sate hunger for very long without something a little more substantial. I'm having fun. Bizarre, or is it? I'm pontificating, listening to music, and just enjoying, well being. Pretty goddamn cool. I wish the same for everyone, no I pray. It would solve a lot of the societal problems about which I'll be venting about. I'm just not in a venting mood yet.
In three weeks, maybe a little sooner I'll be starting rehearsals for The Cherry Orchard. Tomorrow after I pick up the good motorcycle from the shop I'll be heading to Elliot Bay Book Company to see if they have a copy of the script, either the Frayn (who wrote Noises Off) translation which we'll be using or the Rocamora translation Rachel recommended. I started a new class at Freehold and monologue coaching. Nearly ready to start pushing my theatre idea again. It sure feels good to be getting back into the swing.
Still, I don't feel it explains this sense of well-being. Neither do I think the lovely Spring weather is to blame. I'm not complaining mind you. I'm not sure whether I'm once again gleefully rolling in cosmic fertilizer over the seeming permanent change to my outlook or just puzzled. Maybe I should just go with it, and continue listening to opera (Maria Callas), Dory Previn, Jimmy Stafford, Queen, Adam Ant, George Thorogood, et al.
I've been thinking of my mother the last couple weeks. Not constantly, just a few minutes here and there. I saw her for the first time in over two years on Christmas. She decided to play the suicide game, and I had told her should she ever do that I'd write her off. I was thinking about, though not as much as you might think. Even when she did it I waited a couple months before saying farewell. There was some anger in me, which is why I gave it some time. I couldn't envision ever wanting her in my life again. Still can't. The anger is gone, and as it faded so did any hope of having a healthy mother-son relationship. I was concerned at some level lurked a desire to get back at her. I'm sure it was there no matter how little I was aware of it.
There is no feeling of urgency to maintain distance from my maternal parent, neither is there any to connect. Indifference is the opposite of connection. I know it is a sad thing to be indifferent about a parent, to know their death would not move you much, if at all. Yes, I know it is sad, but only logically, it does not move me. I've been thinking about that, in a dispassionate way. I just realized I don't need to avoid her any longer, as I would not give her power over me again. Neither do I need to seek her out.
Good news, I found my Planter's can. I put it in the wrong drawer. I'll still need a meal, but it'll hold me for a bit, and keep the appetite in line so I'm not tempted to get too much.
Injury report:
The leg still slows me down at times. Last night I wanted to go to a show, I even rode the motorcycle to work so I could get downtown and find parking easier. By the end of the day I just wanted to go home. Bummer, Paula and I were hoping to see a show, but we made plans to get together on Sunday. I miss going downtown all the time and seeing Paula and Steve. They haven't got dependable wheels at the moment, and we do like getting together regularly when we aren't working on shows.
I can see glimmering at the end of the tunnel. I know the day when I can walk without pain is in the future, and not all that far off. Without any discomfort or limp, maybe a little further off. In some ways it seems like "only two months?", others like I have never had a good right leg. Ironic because I've done damage to the left leg several times in the past. Severely sprained knee and surgery in junior and senior high. Severe sprain in basic training putting me on hold for six weeks, followed by an extremely severe sprain three weeks later putting me on hold for another fifteen weeks. Then a motorcycle crash two and a half years ago, snapping part of the quadriceps. The left leg didn't feel weaker, but it was just slightly smaller in girth. I guess this is old lefty's big chance to catch up.
The way I like to tuck my legs under the chair intermittently. The way I like to position and curl my legs when I'm sleeping. Normal things. I'm starting to do those now, though comfort becomes an issue with healing and rebuilding of the atrophied parts. It is an interesting, amazing, and somehow exciting process which I hadn't noticed from past injuries. Thanks to the type of theatre training I've pursued I've become aware of my body and comfortable in it. I still want to lose weight, but the shame is gone along with the conviction I'm ugly. I see pictures of myself now and it doesn't bother me. Yet somehow looking at pictures from my college or navy years surprises me. I wasn't ugly, actually I was a damn good looking young fellow. Where did that skewed perception come from? It is funny, humorously so now. I don't consider myself ugly now, but some part of me is still surprised when I see pictures showing me as young and handsome. Retrograde baggage? Despite my positive self-image now, my memories of the past are still flavored by the self-image I had then.
Interesting where healing takes your musings. I was really pissed off Thursday, when I felt a need to give myself more rest. I'd rather socialize than convalesce. Healing quickly is the better option -- delayed gratification. Oh, bugger all, I will be happy when the leg is not central to my social life, day job, and theatre work. They say itching is a sign of healing. Well, my spirit itches like a freaking demon right now. I can walk easily without the cane, but I'll stick with it for a while yet. I helps me to walk with a straight posture and to use full movement in the bum leg. Again, delayed gratification, which I expect will allow me to walk without a limp that much sooner.
[ Actual time of post 3:00AM ]
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