lazy.

ah, the week before school begins. so nice in that it creates anticipation that encourages buckets of anxiety. and this semester it just so coincides with the week of my feminine cycle that holds the greatest amount of angst and hallucinations. fun times for all!

Really.

i had an entire "to-do" list that has been flushed and replaced with absolute nothings. like sleeping in. kind of. after laying awake all night thinking about:
-lousy tuition and how i'm going to make it a reality minus debt.
-or contemplating the hazards of leaving a full recycling bin out on the curb for a week, because we never seem to put it out on the right week. and it overfloweth. and is causing me turn to hording. newspapers and milk jug stacks in all crevices!
-or looking at the past seven years in detailed lists and realizing that i don't feel that much ahead of where i was in 2003.
-future job prospects, in that by the time this degree ends i'll be just about 40 and will anyone really want to hire a non-nurse gerontologist with a PhD in nursing?

Probably not.

So then I roll over and wait for my nasal passage to drain to the other side. ready for the one second of double nostril breathing that will bring a momentary reprieve.

that is why I now blog. to do something other than review the files of anxiety that pile in this brain.

so this week has been filled with lazy interactions with Millie - as she is off track for 2.5 more weeks. we work on letters, sounds, reading, games, and whisk Ellis from Silverpups to treats of Icees and library visits. Then afternoons spent running around high school auditoriums while watching rehearsals for this.

and i've done the dishes. they get done. for now.

next week will be deadlines, spaghetti-waffle dinners, and expectations gallore.

calm and bright.

Here it is 5:00 AM, and I'm awake, thinking. Nose dripping. Tired. Sick. And awake.

Which makes me think of my Dad. Do I have insomnia? The thought that plagues me everytime I have a night like this.

(Or aphrodisiac, as I so clearly explained to family friends at a game night when I was in middle school. Or maybe it was high school. But that's normal to mix those two words. Right? Insomniac. Aphrodisiac. Same thing. Don't you see it?)

And I was perusing the beautiful blogs, and saw a Christmas Card declaring "All is Calm, All is Bright." But it's not. And I'm not. I'm lonely. And sad. And I miss my family. I miss friends.

It's my own fault. I don't have time for family. Or friends. Which is okay 90% of the time. Because I'm socially inept that way. (Or perhaps you could also say social insomniac. Or social aphrodisiac.)

And I read these posts about people who live near their siblings, and trade children/get together/like each other on a daily basis and it makes me sad. I will never live by my siblings. And half the time I think they hate me because I mess up Christmas (sorry Lindy) and cause anger (sorry Kyle and Nathan and everyone else) and am not eloquent, funny, or much fun. And I would like to pick up and go visit them all but have this adversion to spending money (another reason I'm loving Christmas this year.)

It's so much easier to connect with siblings who know me and all the negatives wrapped in that package. And perhaps still might be okay with that. But maybe they aren't.

And now I'm just babbling.

But same for Mom and Dad. Who fix things. That I can't.

So merry, merry all. I'm going back to bed.

schooled. Week 1.

Orientation began at 8:00 AM last Monday and ended at 4:00 PM Friday. And every hour was scheduled. I was home around 10 every night and left at 6:30 AM each morning.

How strange to see my children a total of 10 minutes awake. Or what seemed like 10 minutes.

What I learned in my first week attempt at PhD:

- I'm vulnerable.

and have very thin skin. One reason I wanted to stop auditions was the call back. Where you return and perform in front of your competition. last week was a callback. Not that I perceive my fellow students as competition. But it still had a callback feel. Particularly by the end of the week when I was very, very tired. I tend to think of this as my hallucination period.

Kind words can bring me to tears.

So can smiles. and familiar friends from the past.

I did nothing at my house last week. And if it weren't for some amazing parents, I don't know what we would have done. Not only was the house clean, dishes put away, family fed, but my daughters were schooled, homework completed, and lawn mowed without a finger lifted by me.

It was insane how kind and giving my parents were. And now that they are gone (refusing my cries for them to move in and take care of me until my vulnerable period ends)....I am on my own.

So I will continue to claim hallucinations until my skin thickens a bit. And I stop perceiving unfounded emotions from others. Or opinions of me.

Because I will just continue to tell my psyche: this is not middle school. this is not middle school. this is not middle school.

a big, fat, piece of cake.

Yes I am. And whenever I feel like dessert I want to eat more. And then it becomes this mad circle that spirals into a slow motion life of little motivation.

That's right, and top on my no-motivation list? Scrapbooking. Hair. Getting out of bed. Showers. Cleaning. Brushing my teeth. Cooking. Dishes.

And then my resentment increases at others for sitting while I have to move. Because. I. don't. want. to. move.

To fight this? I made lemon squares AND Halfway cookies yesterday. Today I plan on making the homemade oreos.

But I have a really good reason. Payment for the substitutes in primary. 36 instructors equals a lot of subs. And the few who actually say yes to subing are getting burnt out.

So my evolution into dessert will be shared, so that the majority of these feelings will not end up in my stomach. But on someone else's doorstep.

And then I will go back to bed.

in mourning...

for the life that was full of potential but never realized.

doesn't returning to your childhood haunts do that to you?

it makes me sad. every time. and i think of things. like how in first grade i visited Portland, and then wrote that i did not see shark meat, avocados, or policemen on horse in really great handwriting.

my mom and my sister said it was really great hand writing. for first grade.

and i think. at that time. what potential was seen? and was it realized?

not fully. i'm sure. or at all in the manner imagined.

kind of sad.

and now.

the time spent with my girls is coming to an end. and i'm sad.

for i had a vision of the potential of that time. and it wasn't fully realized.

and i also really want that family that all lives near one another. so i can abuse privileges by utilizing the safety of cousins and comfort of siblings to shield me from anxiety and fear.

i've never had that. reliable, automatic, adult friends through family to hang out with on a school night.

but then again, i don't like people. and would probably en anger some.

and then i would have to apologize.

continuity theory in human form.

and now i admit to the world the truth.

not too much here in regards to redeeming qualities.

i made cinnamon rolls.

to find redemption.

for everything.

but only found joy in the short journey to my stomach.

and it didn't work.

failure people.

right here.

at connecting with humans. siblings. plumbers. kids. PR.

...

Dear Blog,

I am too busy keeping warm under my Snuggie and listening to a bit 'o' Kate Nash, Regina Spektor, Iron & Wine, and The Be Good Tanyas to care.

As represented by the Christmas tree that stands fully adorned in our front window.

And the cookies in my belly.

Clin's vacation is over. The store ads declare the time is now for weight loss and organization. Newspapers are telling me all about resolutions for the new year.

I'm still working on the candy from my stocking.

Who knows when it will be gone.

--Me

here.

I didn't want to get out of bed this morning. And had it not been for a planned visit from cousin Becky, I would still be there.

Clin would categorize this as PMS. But who knows? I mean I've given up on calendaring these things. And maybe I'm just in a state. Or tired. That would definitely be a label I could wear.

But who isn't?

Maybe it's the four point five day food free-for-all that began Thursday and has not yet declared an end. I can't stop. Right now I'm downing a glass of the DC and graham crackers with a bunch 'o' frosting in the middle. And I'm not satisfied. Seriously, the frosting/graham combination used to be so much better than it is in this moment.

But I did put on a new, old pair of jeans this morning. Size 8. I only own 1 pair of eights. I've only ever owned 1 pair.

Perhaps the one exception could be Brian Rothery's hand me downs that ended up in my college dresser during my boy jean phase. But they were labeled based on that male system that makes no sense. So those can't count.

My eights are considered new because they were only ever worn for a couple of months preceding the pregnancy of 2004. They have lived in the closet since.

So this should be some cause for celebration. For not crawling back into bed.

But I just don't feel it.

*I would like to take this moment to give a shout out to the high I got yesterday from the Ginger Snap bubble bath scent wafting from Ellis's hair. That was nice.

up a hill..

This bike was purchased for birthday #4. Back in April.

Yesterday. 9/21/09 was the first day that she sat on it longer than 2 seconds.

And after 2 jaunts down this sidewalk, all she wanted was to go longer. While I walked behind her pushing Ellis in a stroller.

But we live on a hill. And for one who can barely pedal at a downward angle, I did not see us going up anytime soon.

But with enough demanding, I caved. Up hill we went.

And we went around the block. All were happy. Until we reached the top of the hill and were ready to go down. That is when the tears erupted, in loud exclamations of poopy pants, and hating helmets.

I finally got her back on the bike, and within 3 houses of home, she practically rode into an intersection before throwing herself onto the curb. And then we walked home.

through scrapes and screams.