It’s all fun and games –

– till someone gets hurt. Then it’s just fun

Danger! Danger Will Robinson! (RIP Robot)

Following will be a splash of mental vomit with fresh steaming bits of emotion, psychology, philosophy all in a creamy profanity sauce. Not up for that – get the **** out now.

4:03 am – laying bed remember what a blessing, gift, that sleep is.  Real sleep, not drug or alcohol induced or depression inspired but true,  7 +/- hours that included REM and true rest. Healing and rejuvenation.  Had not ever known it ’till I met Zoloft.  At 4:07 I was missing it – along with waiting for my no-longer-necessary alarm clock to go off in ninety minutes.

If there was a way to be manic yet productive I would not mind. You know, get up, write that screen play, fix every broken thing in the house, and the neighbors house too. Cure something as yet incurable, write to a friend, define happiness,  God, love, hope and the meaning of life. Make some eggs and watch the sun rise. Basic shit, ya know? Ah yes, if only.

When I say, “I feel sad” it is not a choice. I know it is a temporary thing, and how I choose to react to it is a choice. It is however, not a choice that I feel sad.  There has been significant research done of late that has identified that feelings, real feelings (of which I have forgotten one) Mad, Sad, Glad and the other one, are felt via chemical receptors on each and every living cell in the body. Ponder that for a minute. I did – for days – when presented to me in class. SO – when I say, “I FEEL SAD” I do. On a cellular level – every bit of me. Until your body is doing (or not doing) what my body is doing, on a cellular, chemical level, do no tell me how I should FEEL.

The worm  holes are always present.  I am fortunate enough – as well as unfortunate on a balanced, even scale – to know. It was one thing to be off my fucking rocker, up and down like a an emotional yoyo. It was another thing to have the serotonin working right – to not being slave to the ride. The fortunate part is that I know what normal – or more like normal feels like. I can make that more conscious, thought out decision on how or how not to respond to the FEELINGS. The down side is – I know what it feels like to be more normal.  It sucks to sit in a damaged, misfiring, listing, shell and know that all you can do is hope eventually for the swell to calm, the wind to still, the light to return and sunrise to bring warmth and comfort of clarity, ability to see. If sucks to know that when I am on the lounge, basking in the light, the peaceful healing, reviving light, that another storm is on it’s way.

4:22 am – literally laughing out loud in bed thinking about drug deals. I can recall, amazingly, 20, 25, even 30 years ago when scoring a bunch of prescription meds was a big deal. On occasion we even wanted to know what they were supposed to be for! Comparing that to the near identical feeling of success and satisfaction, sugar coated with getting one over on the establishment (Screw the man!) when I was able to get a second hand script for Cymbalta! Fuck-me-runnin’! 20 feet and it would have been a street-corner-drug-deal just to get something my freaking doctors want me to be taking anyway!

A few days ago I had the chance to watch some kid rely 100% on a cash register to tell him how much change to give back. About 10 minutes later I heard him talking to another smoking- break guy about vicodin. This kid new the dose to weight formula and was able to figure out in his head faster than I could. Priorities rock!

I hate vicodin. First I puke, then sleep – a long time. Just like heroin without he needles. Sticking with coffee and rocky road.

School (new topic) is intense. Structural Integration. A series of 10 sessions intended to disassemble and reassemble the body – make it more efficient in it’s interaction with gravity, the Mother Earth. Often accompanied by deep emotional and some psychological changes, releases, insights, epiphanies etc etc.  Great time for me to be getting a giving this work. Just like, “Hey, this is a great time to stick a piece of broken glass in my ass!” Giving and receiving and having to complete practice logs. This is hard stuff. I need to exercise. A LOT!

Work? Well, I spend time doing stuff but work implies income. So, I guess you could say I am volunteering. Commission or finders fee is hopeful, appreciated. Until something sells, zip. (Maybe I will revisit vicodin) Maybe not – 20 months tomorrow – hate to screw that up – only thing I am so far doing right this year.

Right now I have a head ache – have had since class yesterday and the neck, back portion of the session. And this is only the superficial, light work. The core is yet to come. Great.

Rambling now – took a break to eat and review my jack-ass actions past.  I’m a dick.

I was talking with a friend about cold turkey quitting the antidepressants.  I was pondering what would return first, my squelched sex drive or my symptoms of depression. This of course begged the question, what if they return at the same time? “Too Sad For Sex” – an autobiography!

OK- going to work on the truck – see if what can fall on me next.

Just-out-of-my-rhythm, Ant-Knee