calm and bright. part 2.

while still sick. and tired. oh so very tired. my night of misery evolved into a morning of joy.

I finally returned to bed sometime between 5:30 and 6:00 AM - this was after having been awake since 3, and could not stop the tears, or calm down to sleep. So I layed in bed, eyes leaking.

Clin woke around 6, and proceeded to lecture me on healthy behavior.... kind of ironic. I know. But in the early morning fatigue we both decided sleep was not an option and went downstairs to watch this - which we've had from Netflix since October 15th. What better time to conquer. Thinking it would force sleep upon me, I was wrong.

I enjoyed it.

And it calmed me down. And brightened my day. Because I wasn't so lonely. And it was the first time we've ever watched a movie at 6am.

I'm thinking we have a new Christmas Eve tradition!

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.

in the snow.

One thing that I enjoy about blogs -- other peoples' blogs -- not my blog -- are the beautiful, vibrant, photoshopped pictures of the beautiful, vibrant, edited lives of lovely, articulate strangers. How easy it is to present life as a shimmering orb of perfection. And I like following shiny orbs. Or I like perfection. Particularly the glossy cover-art kinds.

And I think it might be a fun hobby to attempt the creation of a snowglobe life filled with sparkling whimsy and splashy fun.

But I can't write that way. If I did, though, you would now be reading about the crisp evening in a backyard covered in mounds of snow, pristine and untouched. Steam from the dryer vent adding a haze to the cloud covered sky, creating stage effects for our first attempt at throwing ourselves into such perfection.

Small bodies stuck in drifts after each fall, as mother makes her way to save each one from the snow angels holding them hostage. Rolling out the snowman layers, creating snowball machines, eating the productions and starting over again.

Frosty appearing underneath the large tree, without carrot, hat, scarf, or buttons but sculpting replicas out of the excess snow that just happens to be laying at our feet.

And you might imagine an evening of perfection and beauty, within a snowglobe of our own.

Until I admit that this is our first snowman. And I feel bad about that.

And that is where I fall out of the orb, in that I am compelled to admit my guilt and complete lack of abilities of submitting my will to the needs of my children.

telling you - watch this.

Thought of You from Ryan J Woodward on Vimeo.

And a making of video with the choreophrapher - Kori Wakamatsu. I'm one of her biggest fans. (I consider her a friend too. Really. As in I know someone brilliant!)

Thought of You - Behind the Scenes Preview - ROUGH CUT from Cambell Christensen on Vimeo.

Did you see 2 of Clin's former students in that? Oh yes you did.

anxious and insecure.

Perhaps it is the eggnog that I had for breakfast. I should not drink eggnog for breakfast. That is what I've learned this morning.

But PhD studies is like a big fat mirror pushed really close to your face and you can see all of your pores, hair, and other exciting weaknesses.

One of which is my inability to accept that I make mistakes. I know that I do, but I cannot handle it when other people think that I've made a mistake. Particularly when it was unintentional. No - particularly when it really wasn't a mistake, but is an assumed mistake on the part of the recipient. And I hate being misunderstood, because that is when I get really, really anxious that something bad is going to happen and have trouble breathing and it doesn't go away.

You know - many of these misunderstandings happen via email, where I send out a message and get something highly unexpected in return...

In the past my solution has often been to declare a decrease in the little socialization that I have. You know, ban myself from people. The thought of which calms me, but it never works because people keep unbanning themselves from me.

So perhaps my solution needs to be more focused to email. However, I can't figure out how to actually ban myself from email without it hurting my grades, job, life. Insight anyone?

posting for posterity.

Two moments of recent happy:

In a brash move to fight the non-cooking phase we are in, I decided to make some cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning breakfast. And since I'm not the early morning type, I made the dough the evening before.....and then forgot. Sometime around midnight I discovered the dough overtaking the kitchen and decided I should get it rolled out before bed.

That is when Ellis awoke and happened upon my rolling bliss. And we worked together rolling dough, spreading butter, and sprinkling the sugar.

Then Millie awoke. And after a few tears of anger upon the post sprinkled discovery, she helped roll, cut, and throw the rolls into pans.

And who knew, but midnight baking is fun. And no one fought. Nor was there a rush to return to homework, or naps, or places. A new tradition is born.

Moment #2:

As told to us by Granny Lany -

Ellis and Millie eating lunch at the counter. Ellis burps loudly.

Millie says: That's the girl I'm going to marry!


There. Posted. Never to be forgotton.

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.